Truly, the only thing that kept him on his feet was the thought that he must prevail where Kazem had failed. All of this loss and death and pain couldn’t be for naught. It had to mean something. Izad had to see it through and make certain of that.
“Kazem was young and idealistic,” the American countered. “He didn’t understand it’s the collateral damage that sticks in a man’s mind long after the mission is over. But you understand. And I’m assuming your men understand too.” He waved a hand to include the four remaining members of Izad’s security detail. They were gathered around the hotel suite’s dining table, studying the maps of Wayfarer Island the American had downloaded from a government website of federal land-lease deals.
“Everyone here is an experienced soldier or sailor,” the American continued. “That can work against us in this situation.”
“They know the difference between revenge and vengeance,” Izad assured him. “Revenge is equitable. But vengeance? Vengeance means killing the enemy no matter the cost. When they followed me here, they understood this was a mission of vengeance. They will not falter.”
Again, the American glanced around the table. He must have found what he was looking for in the eyes of Izad’s men because he jerked his chin down once and then pointed to the map in front of him. “Okay, so the first step will be to go in at oh-late-thirty. I’m thinking between midnight and one in the morning. We’ll approach from the back side of the island—”
As the American laid out his plan, Izad lent him half an ear. The rest of his mind drifted to his wife and children. Their beautiful faces. The sounds of their voices. The smell of their hair.
He would prevail in this endeavor. He could not imagine Allah would have it any other way. And yet…a dark foreboding itched at the back of his brain. He was suddenly sure he would not survive to see the new dawn. He would die in the process of ending Mason McCarthy.
Just as well, he thought. I am ready to see my family again…
* * *
2:57 p.m.
Alex had wondered what Mason looked like after sex and now she knew. He looked…pretty much the same.
Big. Bronze. And a little untouchable, even in his sleep.
Those muscles, the tattoos, so much latent strength…it all screamed, Beware! This man could crush you like a bug! And yet, she knew just how tender he could be. How truly touchable he was.
How his nipples beaded under the sweep of her tongue. How the brush of her fingertips raised goose bumps over his arms. How he hummed with pleasure when she sank her fingers into his hair.
Oh, yes. Mason McCarthy is eminently touchable.
She would like to touch him now, but she didn’t want to wake him. Not when he looked so peaceful, all the worries wiped from his wide brow. Not when his big chest rose and fell in a deep, even rhythm that told her he was enjoying a dreamless sleep.
Not when she could use the opportunity to study him.
All of him.
When she’d first awoken from the deepest sleep ever, he’d been on his side spooning her, his arms tucked firmly around her, one hairy thigh sandwiched between her own. She’d reveled in the feel of him. The heat of his skin warming her back. The moist puffs of his breath at her neck. The steady hammer of his heartbeat against her backbone. But a cramp in her calf—no doubt brought on from having her toes pointed in sheer ecstasy for so long—forced her to wiggle out of his embrace.
At first, he’d grumbled, his forehead wrinkling in his sleep as if her desertion upset him. But then he’d flipped onto his back and quickly sunk back into oblivion.
She couldn’t say she was sorry. The view was…pretty damn spectacular.
She let her eyes wander over him, cataloging all the big details. Like the patch of hair across his chest which, it turned out, was soft to the touch. Like the muscular lines on the inside of his hips, evidence of his manly fitness. Like the curlicue lettering of the tattoo on his forearm, the tribute to a man she’d heard so much about but would never get to meet.
She made note of the small details too. Like the white crescent-shaped scar above his collarbone. Like the little freckle beside his left nipple. Like how his belly button wasn’t an innie or an outie, but some delightful combination of both.
Then there was his penis. Normally, she would give it the label of “big detail.” But flaccid, it wasn’t nearly as aggressive-looking. In fact, it was sort of cute. Like a roll of flesh-toned Play-Doh or—
What would he think if he knew I was comparing him to Play-Doh?
Probably not much, she decided with a giggle.
Men were so sensitive about their penises. Then again, having experienced his penis in all its wonder, she could understand what the fuss was about. As far as appendages went, it was pretty darn handy. And amazingly adroit—although that might have more to do with its owner than the organ itself.
Indeed, she couldn’t have found a better man or penis to rid her of her virginity had she searched and—
Oh my god! I’m no longer a virgin!
She’d realized it on a surface level directly after the main event, but it wasn’t until right at that moment that the knowledge sank deep, hitting her on a cellular level.
It was done. She was rid of it.
I’m no longer a virgin! She rolled the delicious idea around her head.
Yes, indeed. Virginity sucked and sex was wonderful.
She wished she could go back in time and club her younger self over the head for not doing as her peers had done and pursuing it with more interest.
Then again, if she’d done that, Mason wouldn’t have been her first. And she was so happy he’d been her first because…well, she loved him. And that had to make it the best it could be, right?
Better if he loved you back, that voice whispered.
Screw you! she silently growled. She had this day. This one day. She refused to let anything ruin it. Especially inconvenient truths.
Raising her hand to shield her eyes, she checked the position of the sun. It was making its way across the western sky, proving they’d slept for at least two hours.
When her stomach rumbled, she reached into the picnic basket, fishing around for a second helping of brownies. Her fingers bumped into a strange foil square instead. Grabbing one corner, she pulled out the mystery item and discovered it was a condom.
Not just one. A whole strip.
Five to be exact.
Got a healthy opinion of your sexual prowess, don’t you? she thought as she smirked down at Mason. She couldn’t wait to put that opinion to the test.
Dropping the condoms back into the basket, she searched some more and pulled out a brownie. Sitting cross-legged, she took a bite. Sweet, sugary delight exploded against her tongue.