across her middle.
“Must be a pretty good book. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.”
She gasped, slapped a hand on her heart. “Jesus, Acosta, you scared the crap out of me!” She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“A happy coincidence, Angel. But tell me, were you trying to sneak off on me, make me lose face with my men? But no, you wouldn’t do that.” He grinned, and her heart nearly stopped at his breathtaking smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Angel, but I’m here to visit friends.”
Angelique snorted. “Huh, you have friends. Who could have guessed?” She gritted her teeth when he pulled up a chaise next to her.
“Don’t be a brat, Angel. I’m just making conversation.”
“Suppose I don’t want to talk to you? It’s bad enough that I have to act as though we share something when we’re back at the compound. Why should I have to do it here? And what are you doing here, anyway? What’s the matter, not making enough money in Colombia? Come here to unload some guns or drugs at one of the local favelas? Or, wait, underage prostitutes?”
“And here I thought we’d come to some kind of understanding over the Amelita García thing. That maybe you’d started to enjoy my company again. That maybe you started to trust me just a little.” His jaw twitched, and his face flushed with anger. “Guess I should have known better. Why do you always assume the worst of me, Angel?”
“What should I assume, that you’re ministering to the poor souls on both sides of the border? Or maybe you’re undercover, working for the Colombian government to infiltrate the guerilla groups and bring peace and democracy to the country?”
“Maybe I am. You’d have no way of knowing, would you?”
Angelique gave him a hard look. “You run with criminals and thugs who sell women and drugs and God only knows what else. You shot a man in cold blood right in front of me. What else would I think?”
“That man was going to rape you, Angel. I saved your ass.” Acosta shrugged and stretched out on the chaise, signaling to a waiter. “But I can see arguing with you won’t help. How about a drink?”
“Thanks, but I have water.” Her heart thumped when he grinned at her.
“You’re on vacation, Angel. Live a little.” Before she could respond, he’d ordered two large mango margaritas. “You’re going to love these.”
“Drink them yourself. I’m going for a swim.”
MITCH NEARLY SWALLOWED his tongue when Angelique stood and tossed her sarong on the chaise. He’d seen her in shorts and a tank top, sweating her ass off in the jungle, but this…this Brazilian bikini was almost too much. Bad enough that he’d had to sit here ogling her breasts behind his mirrored sunglasses, but the bikini bottom she was wearing left nothing to the imagination. He resisted the urge to wrap her in a towel and whisk her off the beach.
Hot-pink material provided moderate coverage of her cleanly waxed mound. Just as he expected, but Jesus, was she completely bare under there or just partially? When she walked toward the water, the tiny triangular swatch of material covering her backside revealed what he’d always known to be a first-rate ass to the rest of the world. He swallowed hard. At least it wasn’t a thong. Cripes! She could crack a walnut, her cheeks were so tight.
Mitch stifled a groan. Dear Lord, to hold that ass in his hands again. To nibble it, to bend her over and take her from behind, watching it flex as his cock pounded into her pussy. He’d been away from her for too long. If he were to be completely honest with himself, even one day away from her was too much. The familiar stir of desire told him to think of something else, anything else, or he’d be walking down the beach with a raging hard-on.
She dived into the face of a wave and bobbed up, soaking-wet blonde hair streaming around her, skin dewy and slick from
“Must be a pretty good book. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.”
She gasped, slapped a hand on her heart. “Jesus, Acosta, you scared the crap out of me!” She looked up at him, narrowing her eyes. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?”
“A happy coincidence, Angel. But tell me, were you trying to sneak off on me, make me lose face with my men? But no, you wouldn’t do that.” He grinned, and her heart nearly stopped at his breathtaking smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, Angel, but I’m here to visit friends.”
Angelique snorted. “Huh, you have friends. Who could have guessed?” She gritted her teeth when he pulled up a chaise next to her.
“Don’t be a brat, Angel. I’m just making conversation.”
“Suppose I don’t want to talk to you? It’s bad enough that I have to act as though we share something when we’re back at the compound. Why should I have to do it here? And what are you doing here, anyway? What’s the matter, not making enough money in Colombia? Come here to unload some guns or drugs at one of the local favelas? Or, wait, underage prostitutes?”
“And here I thought we’d come to some kind of understanding over the Amelita García thing. That maybe you’d started to enjoy my company again. That maybe you started to trust me just a little.” His jaw twitched, and his face flushed with anger. “Guess I should have known better. Why do you always assume the worst of me, Angel?”
“What should I assume, that you’re ministering to the poor souls on both sides of the border? Or maybe you’re undercover, working for the Colombian government to infiltrate the guerilla groups and bring peace and democracy to the country?”
“Maybe I am. You’d have no way of knowing, would you?”
Angelique gave him a hard look. “You run with criminals and thugs who sell women and drugs and God only knows what else. You shot a man in cold blood right in front of me. What else would I think?”
“That man was going to rape you, Angel. I saved your ass.” Acosta shrugged and stretched out on the chaise, signaling to a waiter. “But I can see arguing with you won’t help. How about a drink?”
“Thanks, but I have water.” Her heart thumped when he grinned at her.
“You’re on vacation, Angel. Live a little.” Before she could respond, he’d ordered two large mango margaritas. “You’re going to love these.”
“Drink them yourself. I’m going for a swim.”
MITCH NEARLY SWALLOWED his tongue when Angelique stood and tossed her sarong on the chaise. He’d seen her in shorts and a tank top, sweating her ass off in the jungle, but this…this Brazilian bikini was almost too much. Bad enough that he’d had to sit here ogling her breasts behind his mirrored sunglasses, but the bikini bottom she was wearing left nothing to the imagination. He resisted the urge to wrap her in a towel and whisk her off the beach.
Hot-pink material provided moderate coverage of her cleanly waxed mound. Just as he expected, but Jesus, was she completely bare under there or just partially? When she walked toward the water, the tiny triangular swatch of material covering her backside revealed what he’d always known to be a first-rate ass to the rest of the world. He swallowed hard. At least it wasn’t a thong. Cripes! She could crack a walnut, her cheeks were so tight.
Mitch stifled a groan. Dear Lord, to hold that ass in his hands again. To nibble it, to bend her over and take her from behind, watching it flex as his cock pounded into her pussy. He’d been away from her for too long. If he were to be completely honest with himself, even one day away from her was too much. The familiar stir of desire told him to think of something else, anything else, or he’d be walking down the beach with a raging hard-on.
She dived into the face of a wave and bobbed up, soaking-wet blonde hair streaming around her, skin dewy and slick from
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