Part 49
Maria watched Michael as he continued to poke at the fish, reminding her of a little boy seated at the dinner table and faced with something that he just couldn't make himself eat. Well, she wasn't going to make him anything else to eat until he had at least tried the food. He could still be incredibly difficult when he chose to be, and it probably wasn't the best day to spring a new dish on him; thinking about it now, she should've gone with something that she knew he liked.
"There's a reason why I don't eat fish," he grumbled, moving it around on the plate with his fork. "Why didn't you make fries to go with this?"
"You don't eat fish because you don't like to try anything new, and I didn't make fries because this meal is served best with pasta and vegetables."
"That's just stupid; fries go with everything."
"Michael, why are you trying to pick a fight?"
"You picked the fight this mornin', so I think I'm entitled to pick a fight tonight." He put his fork down and reached up to rub his right shoulder for a couple of minutes before picking up his beer and taking a drink. "This doesn't really have anything to do with you," he said, retrieving his fork and cutting into the fish. He took a bite and chewed it slowly, realizing that it wasn't as strong as catfish or salmon. "Okay, so it doesn't totally suck, but it'd be better with fries."
"You can't eat fries with every meal." She held a hand up when he opened his mouth to disagree. "Okay, technically, you can eat fries with every meal, but it wouldn't be good for you."
"Is that backrub still up for grabs?"
"Yeah, sure." She glanced at him, reading the tension in his tall frame. "After dinner?"
Michael nodded and his thoughts turned inward as his mind shifted back to the mission that he would be undertaking at any time. They weren't going in with as much time or preparation as he preferred to have when the assignment was this dangerous, but Xavier was unreachable at the present time and his replacement wasn't giving him the same latitude that he got from the other man.
Stone had admitted that she had tried to get the man to listen to reason, but he was under pressure from the Brazilian government to get his people in and out in the shortest possible amount of time, so he was being unreasonable in his demands in order to keep the peace. She wasn't any happier about it than Michael was, but she was confident that even with the lack of time they would be able to get in and out in the window they had been given.
He was confident that they could get in and out and complete the mission successfully, but he didn't like that there was no room for those little unforeseen problems that had a tendency to crop up during missions where time was short.
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After dinner, Maria was sitting on her end of the couch, reading a book and listening to the stereo when Michael finally decided that he was ready. She glanced up when he came up behind her and nudged her shoulder.
"Where d'you want me?"
She quickly slammed the mental door on the answer that immediately leapt to mind and turned to give the placement of the bookmark more attention than was necessary. "What?"
"For the backrub… you didn't change your mind, did you?"
"No, no, I was just…" She cleared her throat. I was just buying time. She leaned over to set her book on the coffee table before turning fully to look at him. He was bare from the waist up, which she should have expected when she extended the offer. "The floor."
Michael frowned. "The floor?" She was kiddin', right? There was no way he was gonna lay on the floor for a backrub! Once she started touchin' him, it wouldn't take long before he was sportin' a hard-on and he'd be damned if he was gonna abuse his dick like that! "Huh-uh, no way." He turned and started back down the hall. "My room."
Maria gaped after him, speechless. His room? Okay, well, that had to be better than her room… she'd never have another night of peaceful sleep. She finally accepted defeat and followed him, stopping in her room to get the lotion she needed, and then heading for his bedroom. She paused in the doorway, swallowing hard when she saw him stretched out on the bed, perfectly relaxed as he waited for her to join him. At least he was still wearing his pants.
"Took you long enough," he muttered, rolling over so that he was lying on his stomach, arms crossed under his pillow as he moved his head around to find a comfortable position.
She walked towards his bed and debated the best way to handle the situation since he had taken the upper hand. Damn it, there was just no good way to do this!
"Don't be shy, baby, mount up."
She rolled her eyes. She could hear the smirk in his voice and she knew he was enjoying this far more than she had meant for him to enjoy it. She was just thankful she had spent the day lounging around in a pair of sweat pants because there was nothing even remotely sexy about them; although after a few moments she realized that it didn't matter because he was just messing with her so that he could maintain control of the situation.
Okay, it's just a backrub, nothing more. She was quite capable of doing this without it turning into more than what it was. She just had to stay focused and not pay any attention to anything else. She could do that… she could!
Michael had nearly accepted that she was gonna chicken out when she suddenly climbed up on the bed and threw her left leg over his hips, straddling his body as she leaned forward to run her hands over his back and shoulders. Yeah, this wasn't gonna do a damn thing to ease the tension in his body, he thought. He heard the lid on the bottle of lotion snap open and he could hear her warming it between her hands for several long, torturous minutes.
He groaned when her hands settled on his shoulders, slick with the warmed lotion and seeking out knots of tension that he hadn't known were there. He felt her thighs grip his hips and he wondered if she was even aware that she was doing it. Her hands moved down, working the muscles and kneading them until his back started to feel completely free of the tightness that had kept him tied up in knots.
"I don't know how you've managed to be this tense and you haven't pulled any muscles." Maria shook her head as her fingers dug into the tight muscles of his lower back, praying for strength when he groaned again. She needed this to be finished, and soon, because the sounds he was making and the way he kept shifting under her was driving her crazy.
He was in serious danger of straining a major muscle right now, he thought, shifting restlessly. Her touch was driving him crazy. He knew she wasn't touching him with the intention of turning him on, but that's what was happening nonetheless. He hadn't had sex in months and he was always teetering on the edge of arousal around her; he was slowly but surely approaching the brink of madness and it wasn't gonna take much more before he lost his mind.
Maria let her gaze roam over the broad expanse of his tanned back, tracing over the scars that marred his flesh in several places. The path he had chosen for his life hadn't come without cost and she was certain that each of the scars were souvenirs from missions that hadn't gone as planned.
"Okay," she said, letting her fingers trail over his sides as she straightened up, "I think you're about as loose as you're gonna get."
Michael raised his head and glanced at her over his right shoulder. She was still touching him, her green gaze sliding over his body until her eyes locked with his. She pulled back and shifted until she was on her knees next to him and she froze when he suddenly turned and sat up, his hand reaching out to lock onto her wrist and hold her still.
"Don't leave." His voice was ragged, his breathing rapid.
Maria could feel her heart pounding, could hear it over everything but his voice. She was quickly losing the battle to maintain distance between them and she felt her grasp on it slipping as soon as she saw the look in his eyes. His features were taut, and yet his expression was more open than she had ever seen it as need, want, and desire all surfaced and made themselves known to her.
He had waited for months for her to make the first move, certain that it was necessary, but when her hand turned over and slid back to grasp his where it had been gripping her wrist, he lost the battle with every good intention he'd had.
She felt a moment of shock when he grabbed her, pulling her over so that she was straddling his body, but it was quickly overshadowed by stronger emotions when his mouth settled over hers. Her hands rested on his chest, tracing over the muscles there before sliding up to grip his shoulders. God, why had she resisted this for so long? she wondered as she struggled to get closer to him and returned the hungry kiss.
Michael groaned into her mouth as his hands gripped her hips, his fingers flexing before moving up to slide under her shirt. How had he gone so long without the feel of a woman's skin beneath his fingers? He eased back until he was lying down and he could feel every inch of her pressed against him.
This was wrong! Maria's mind was screaming at her to stop, to put an end to taking pleasure from his touch, and as quickly as he had started it, she stopped it. "I can't do this, Michael…"
He tried to grab her before she could get away from him, but she pulled away and got off of the bed before he could stop her. She ran from the room and he fell back against his pillows and stared at the ceiling. "Michael Guerin, zero… sexual frustration… who the fuck knows?" He sighed. He had lost count of how many times he had lost out to sexual frustration since Maria DeLuca had entered his life.
He wanted to just ignore the feeling of hurt that had settled over him in response to her rejection. And that was what it was - rejection. Again.
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Jungle heat was the worst kind of heat, Michael thought as he swung the machete to clear the vegetation and create a path. They were a part of nature that would be best left alone, but mankind continued to encroach further and further into places it had no business invading. And for what? He stopped to rest a moment, wiping the sweat from his face and glancing back at Stone.
Just like him, she was literally dripping with sweat from the humidity that hung so thick in the air. "By my calculations we should have about two more miles of this hell before we reach the rebel camp." She took a drink from the canteen she had unclipped from her belt before offering it to him. She chuckled and shook her head when he wiped the opening before taking a long drink.
Michael's right eyebrow lifted in question as he recapped the canteen and handed it back to her. "What?"
"Considering where your mouth's been, I find it comical that you actually wiped the opening before drinking from the canteen." She shook her head when he scowled. "Since when do you even do that?"
"Since chances are you've gone down on someone a lot more recently than I have."
Stone shifted the shoulder strap on her rifle to a more comfortable position and followed him when he started to viciously hack through the vegetation once more. "I doubt it since it's been at least a week." Her expression reflected interest when he didn't comment, his concentration seemingly focused on what he was doing. He was swinging the machete like a man possessed. "So, Michael, exactly how long has it been?"
"How long has what been?"
"How long since you've gone down on a woman?"
"Fuck off, Stone, I don't wanna talk about it."
Uh-huh, hit a nerve with that one, she thought. Well, she'd let it rest for a while and then come back to it later. Besides, there was nothing else to do in this godforsaken jungle unless sweating by the gallon and being lunch for the local insect population counted.
"We're gonna need to get our Intel tonight; we've only got thirty-nine hours before we're scheduled to be at the pickup point."
Michael glanced at Stone when she grabbed his arm, remaining silent when she made a sharp gesture with her right hand. He nodded once and sheathed the machete, reaching for his sidearm and quickly screwing a silencer onto the end of the barrel as he carefully stepped back to take cover. Stone disappeared from sight but he kept his eyes focused on the direction she had motioned to, knowing that she would come up behind whoever was approaching their position.