Page 17 of Resurgent
Chapter Five
Charlotte
New York cab drivers have nothing on cabbies in Mexico, and our driver darts in and out of traffic like he’s Mario Andretti, punctuating each lane change with a string of curse words in Spanish and the occasional hand gesture. If Liam wanted to be inconspicuous, we should have kept the car and driven ourselves. But honestly, Liam couldn’t blend into the background if he tried. I’ve never met anyone with a bigger natural presence. He has an air of effortless confidence and a way of totally commanding the space he fills. Especially when it’s as small as the back seat of a cab. I can feel the undeniable pull of him even though we’re not touching.
I steal a glance at him. Even with his long hair and scruffy beard, he’s still impossibly gorgeous. He seems completely relaxed and at ease as he watches the passing scenery through the car window, but his hand rests on his leg close to where I know his knife is strapped, and there’s a certain aura of readiness about him that belies his casual demeanor. I wonder if he ever fully relaxes. But there’s no doubt about it. He makes me feel safe.
He catches me looking at him and flashes a smile, and for a minute, my insides feel wobbly. I quickly squelch the thoughts that come immediately after—thoughts of me under him, the feel of his hands on my skin, the taste of his lips…
I sigh. That’s not going to happen again. He doesn’t remember anything. Not our weekend in Playa, not making love until the sun came up, or the promises he whispered in my ear. I remind myself that’s a good thing. Because it means he also doesn’t remember that horribly awkward encounter a month later when I realized that it hadn’t meant anything to him, while I’d inadvertently fallen for him. Not that I’m surprised. Guys like Liam don’t fall for girls like me.
And here…now…he’s still clearly not interested, despite his comments. He’s the kind of guy who flirts with everyone, including eighty-year-old women who smile back at him with a remembered sparkle in their eyes. He admitted he’s not happy about me having to stay in Mexico with him. He even apologized for kissing me! I just need to forget all about that night and remember Liam is nothing more than my best friend’s brother. The Navy SEAL who rescued me. I glance down at the two-carat diamond glinting on my finger and sigh. And my pretend husband.
I’ll admit I freaked out a little when Liam told me I couldn’t go home. After all the soul-searching I did last night before we escaped the drug cartel, I don’t want to waste another minute waiting to start living my life differently. But my plans are going to have to wait. I’m stuck in Mexico, and my only act of rebellion against my former life so far has been buying a decidedly-not-Charlotte teeny bikini and some totally impractical underwear.
I don’t have a choice. I certainly don’t want to put McKenzie in danger, or expose Liam. And the thought of being kidnapped again—or at the mercy of the cartel members—makes me shudder. Being on the run with Liam is definitely better, although it might be just as dangerous, and in more ways than one.
But honestly, Liam needs my help. He seems to live life on a wing and prayer, but that’s not going to help him find the guns and clear his name.
We’ve turned off the main road, and the cab bumps along a smaller road through the jungle before pulling into a circular driveway in front of a large resort. Through the lush foliage around us, I can see several straw-thatched huts tucked in between the trees.
“Playa Aislado, señor,” the cab driver says. He gets out of the car and opens my door with a flourish. “Welcome,señorita.”
Liam has come around and pays the cab driver before slipping an arm around my waist. His touch is electric. I try to ignore it, focusing instead on the surrounding resort. It’s a good distraction; this place is stunning. I turn to Liam.
“This is where we’re staying?”
“Only the best for my baby,” he says with a wink, reminding me we have a role to play. “How about a kiss?”
The last thing I want to do is kiss him and torture myself with everything that will never be, but the cab driver is beaming at us expectantly, and I realize I can’t refuse him. We’re supposed to be newlyweds. My heart starts thumping as I lean in. Liam, damn him, doesn’t make it any easier. He doesn’t make any move toward me. He just watches me, a faint smile on his sensual lips, his blue eyes silently daring me to go through with the kiss. I quickly graze my mouth over his. There.
But before I can pull away, his hand is on the back of my head, pulling me back to him. He kissesmethis time, his lips gentle but insistent. I’m powerless to move, to breathe, to do anything but savor the feel of his lips on mine as my mouth opens to him as if it has a mind of its own. With a low growl of pleasure, he slips his tongue inside, exploring my lips and teeth and tongue with a slow sensuality that has my blood thrumming. When he finally breaks the kiss, my breath is coming in little huffs.
“That’s a good start,” he adds with another wink and a grin. I blush. But every nerve ending in my body is singing the “Hallelujah” chorus, even though I know he’s just pretending. He holds out his arm for me. “Shall we?”
I tuck my hand into the crook of his arm as we walk into the lobby of the hotel. He checks us in as Mr. and Mrs. Tyler Walsh, making a point of mentioning it’s our honeymoon and asking for the most private villa. The man at the check-in desk hands us our key and signals to the bellboy, but Liam waves him away. Instead, I follow him as we wind our way down the sand-and-stone path carved into the hill of the jungle, trying not to gape.
“This is amazing!”
I’ve stepped into the Garden of Eden. This beautiful place is a hidden paradise, thick and lush with vegetation. Clumps of green fruit dangle from banana trees and brightly colored birds chatter in the trees. This is no posh manmade resort with immaculately kept grounds. The round villas are thatched with straw and look like they are part of the surrounding jungle, and the various amenities we pass—a deep blue infinity pool, an outdoor restaurant and bar, a hut with a primitive wooden sign carved with the word “spa”—seamlessly blend in with the surroundings.
The beach is secluded and small—just a crescent of sand at the edge of the trees—and protected on either side by an outcropping of rocks. Peaceful, almost wild and untamed in its beauty, it kisses an ocean of deep sapphire blue.
We stop in front of a round, straw-thatched bungalow that’s the last stop on the path, and as far as we can get from the main part of the resort without being in the jungle proper. “This is us,” Liam says. He unlocks the door, but just as I start to step inside, he sweeps me off my feet and into his arms.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Carrying you across the threshold.” He looks down at me, his lips twitching. “For a wedding planner, you’re surprisingly ignorant about the whole getting married process.”
The door clicks shut behind us, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of the feel of his hard, unyielding chest, the scent of him, and the fact that we’re alone in a romantic hotel room in the middle of paradise. Oh God. I’ve got to stop this.
“No one can see us anymore. You can put me down now.”
He ignores me, carrying me through the gorgeous villa and up the stairs into the bedroom. Oh, bloody hell. There are flower petals everywhere—marking the path to the large, curtained bed that dominates the room, tucked into the silver bowl that holds a chilled bottle of champagne, and spelling out the word “love” on the white canopy bed. If this was actually my honeymoon, it would be impossibly romantic. With a guy who ignites my senses but is absolutely off-limits, it’s just impossible.
“Put me down!” I push against his chest but it’s like trying to move granite. Changing tactics, I pound his bicep with my fist. “Ouch.”
He drops me unceremoniously on the bed, and the rose petals scatter. Before I can move, he’s hovering over me, his arms braced on either side of me, his face so close I can feel his breath. “Just wanted to make sure our fake marriage got off on the right foot.” He grins. “So, Mrs. Walsh. Shall we consummate our marriage now or later?”
