Masters at Arms (Rescue Me Saga, #0.5)(22)
“Where’d you get your first-aid expertise?”
“I have a niece who’s a tomboy. She’s always in one scrape or another.”
She watched his brown hands against her white thighs as he gently applied antibiotic cream before taping gauze to the insides of her thighs. Then he washed her feet. She’d never had anyone take care of her needs in such a long time. Not since Maman.
“How does that feel?”
“Better.” She smiled. “Thanks, Damián.”
“De nada. Let me help you get dressed. I’ll carry you down the back stairs so we can get out without alerting security.”
“You don’t have to carry me.”
He glanced at her feet, then back at her face. “I’m carrying you.”
He retrieved her black dress, bra, and panties from the chair in the corner and helped her dress. She felt like a child, and blushed knowing she wasn’t. She lifted her arms and he slipped the dress down her torso as she sat on the edge of the bed.
Damián stood back, looking down at her. “Hope you won’t mind riding on the back of my Harley.”
An image of her legs wrapped around him caused her nipples to harden. She watched him glance down at them, which caused them to grow even harder. Her face reddened, then he raised his gaze to her eyes. His grin caused her clit to throb. Oh, Lord. Her breasts had done the talking for her.
“Good, querida.”
Oh, Savannah, you’re so close to ending your suffering.
Don’t do anything stupid and screw it up.
*
Damián throttled the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. The feeling of control the hog gave him as it responded got the blood rushing through his body in a way nothing else could. Okay, maybe there was something else that could charge his engine. Like the beautiful woman plastered against his back and hips right now. He grinned.
The Harley was the only thing he’d ever been able to call his own. He’d worked for a Harley-Davidson repair shop and saved every penny until he could buy his own used chopper. It had been a total piece of crap when he’d bought it, but he’d restored it himself over the past year and could now interpret every rumble the engine made. He hoped he wouldn’t have to sell his baby to make ends meet, not after all the time and money he had put into her.
Savannah’s arms held him tight around the waist, her hands pressing into his stomach. He tried not to think about her sexy legs molded against his hips and thighs. His dick hardened. That she’d been game to ride on his bike surprised him. She didn’t seem like the type who’d want to get her hair mussed. And she sure as hell wasn’t dressed to ride. He’d made her wear his leather jacket, but it barely covered her black cocktail dress.
Savannah sure was full of surprises.
The pre-dawn traffic was light as he rode down Marine Street in La Jolla. Savannah was a natural on the bike, leaning with him as he made turns and lane changes. Now if only he could curb the ache of wanting to bury his dick deep inside her. Between the vibration of the machine and her body pressed against his back, ass, and legs, he felt like he’d explode. Mierda. He rolled on the throttle and catapulted them onto the 5. When she grabbed his waist even tighter, he grinned. Damn, she felt good against him.
Palm trees and scrubby evergreens dotted the sides of the road. The Pacific stretched out forever to the west. She’d given him her father’s address in Rancho Santa Fe. Not that it was any of his business, but he couldn’t help but wonder why someone from a rich neighborhood like Rancho would let men treat her with such disrespect.
He lived in La Colonia where he’d grown up, the Solana Beach neighborhood now known as Eden Gardens. It had sprung up in the shadow of Rancho to house the workers for the wealthy Rancho residents. His Chicano grandparents and father had immigrated from Mexico in the 1930s and worked for Rancho millionaires for decades. His mother, a sixth-generation Californian, had been a housekeeper behind the gates of one of the Rancho mansions. He’d lived in the shadow of the Rancho decadence all his life.
Now he had one of their daughters on the back of his Harley. Wasn’t that a pisser? What would her family think when he rolled up at their door to drop her off? He grinned. As much as he couldn’t wait to see that, he’d much rather enjoy their brief time together staying in the moment.
She laid her helmeted head against his shoulder and his dick jerked. Mierda. Yeah, he definitely needed to stay in this moment. But he couldn’t help but wonder what the hell she was doing trusting him, a freakin’ stranger, like this. How did she know he wouldn’t just take her to some isolated place to rape and kill her? He remembered the torture she’d undergone yesterday. This chica had some serious problems with setting boundaries and making healthy choices about men.
Soon he would have her back in her safe little world, thankfully, before they did something she’d regret later. He wouldn’t regret anything he did with her, though. No f*cking way.
Luckily, her exit was coming up. Soon he’d have her safe at home. He hoped she wouldn’t venture out on another escort assignment anytime soon with Jerk-off.
As he came to the end of the ramp, she lifted the visor and shouted in his ear, “Don’t take me home yet.”
He just about blew a wad in his pants. Whether it was her warm body against him, her sexy voice in his ear, or visions of having her body underneath his, he knew in an instant where he wanted to take her before he let this mariposa flit away for good. He’d never taken a chica there before….