Cry No More Read online

  Milla caught one of the roots, too, and managed to wedge her feet against an underwater rock that was just past the tree. The current still pushed at her, but she locked her trembling knees and managed to hold her position.

  “I’m letting go of the belt,” she managed to say. “I’m braced. How about you?”

  “I’m good,” he said. She untwisted the belt and the leather floated free. For a split second she panicked as the water seemed to tug at her, as if it had just been waiting for her to release her lifeline. But she pushed back harder against the tree and held her position.

  Her lungs were pumping like bellows, dragging in air for her oxygen-starved muscles. She couldn’t hear anything now except the water and her own heartbeat thundering in her ears.

  Diaz hooked his hands under her arms from behind, and dragged her up and back, onto a shelf of rock and out of the water.

  The effort seemed to take all his remaining strength, because he collapsed on his hands and knees on the rock, wheezing and groaning. Milla lay facedown where he’d let her drop, too exhausted to move. Her body felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds, as if even twitching a finger would take gargantuan effort.

  The rock was in full sunshine and felt warm under her chilled body. Water streamed from their clothes and hair. She closed her eyes and listened to their laboring breaths, listened to the pound of blood through her veins. They were alive.

  Maybe she dozed, or fainted, or both. After a while she managed to turn over, onto her back, and let the sunshine wash over her face. Still breathing hard, almost giddy with relief, Milla tilted her face up to the warmth.

  That had been so close. She still couldn’t quite believe they’d managed to make it to the bank; she definitely knew she wouldn’t have been able to make it on her own. The water rushed and swirled only a foot beyond where Diaz lay, sucking at the rock and the stubborn tree, knowing that eventually it would claim them. Time, after all, was on the water’s side. Only Diaz’s strength had enabled them to break free of its clutch.

  Still gasping a little, she said, “What happened? Why did we fall?”

  He said, “The ground crumbled under the other end of the plank and tilted it.”

  Her next question was “How did you know there’s a waterfall on this river?”

  He was silent a minute; then he said, “There’s always a waterfall. Don’t you watch any movies?”

  Overwhelmed by relief and an almost effervescent joy at being alive, she began to laugh.

  Diaz had rolled onto his back beside her, his own chest heaving as he fought for breath, but now he turned his head toward her and the hard line of his mouth moved in a slight smile. He watched her for a minute, his dark eyes narrowed against the glare of the afternoon sun. Then he said, “I’d give my left nut to be inside you right now.”

  Her laughter vanished as if it had never been, sucked away by the shock of his words. She’d daydreamed and fantasized and obsessed, but she’d never thought she’d have to deal with reality, and here it was, staring her in the face. Diaz? And her? The hard fact of what he’d said was so jarring that reality tilted for a moment, leaving her adrift on that warm rock with her head buzzing and adrenaline still burning through her veins. Then everything slammed back into place, and with it came a rush of carnal hunger that stunned her with its force. Diaz—and her. Her insides clenched at the thought of him on top of her, between her legs. She wanted him. She had wanted him the moment she saw him, and she wanted him now.

  He’d never even really kissed her. That light comfort kiss in Juarez didn’t count.

  She’d wanted this, and now reasons for backing away swarmed through her mind like locusts. If all he wanted was a quick fuck, she wasn’t the woman he was looking for, and she couldn’t imagine him wanting anything other than that. This was Diaz, after all; he wasn’t the hang-around type of man, and she wasn’t stupid enough to think she could change him. She’d been so careful not to give him any sexual reaction, any hint that she found him attractive; she’d kept it all inside, in her daydreams. But he’d known anyway; it was in those shrewd dark eyes, that knowledge.

  “You’re thinking too much,” he said lazily. “It was just an observation, not a declaration of war.”

  “Women always think too much.” She sniffed. “We have to, to keep things balanced.” Odd that he’d chosen “war” as a metaphor . . . or perhaps it was fitting. Squinting up at the sun, trying to find something solid to hold on to, since the ground had just shifted beneath her, she said, “Why do men always offer their left nut and never their right one? Is something wrong with it? Or is the right one somehow more important?”

  “You wrong us.” He closed his eyes with a tired sigh, and that slight smile touched his mouth again. “A man takes both his nuts seriously.”

  “In that case, I’m flattered.”

  “But not interested.”

  Here was where she could lightly say “Sorry” and that would be the end of it. Instead, unable to lie, she closed her own eyes and let the silence grow between them.

  She felt him move as he heaved himself up; then he was propped on his elbow, leaning over her and blocking the sun. “You’d better say no,” he murmured, flattening his hand on her stomach. The heat from his palm burned through her wet clothing to her chilled skin; then he slipped his fingertips under the waistband of her jeans and she felt the heat go all the way through her.

  “Not that I intend to do anything right now, anyway,” he continued. “We need to get back to the truck. A rock’s a damn uncomfortable place for what I want to do, our clothes are wet, my balls are so cold it may take me a week to find them, and we don’t have any condoms. But in a few hours things will be different, and if you don’t want to go anywhere with this, you’d better say no right now.”

  He was right. She should say no.

  But she didn’t. Despite all the good reasons she’d given herself just a moment before . . . she didn’t.

  Instead she opened her eyes and turned her head toward him as he bent down to her. His lips were cold; hers were colder. But his tongue was warm, and the kiss was almost shy as he gently explored her mouth. His left hand tangled in her wet hair and he slowly deepened the kiss as he caught her waist and rolled her toward him.

  The touch of that whipcord body sent a pool of warmth spreading through her insides. It was almost enough to dispel the chill, but still she suddenly shivered as the aftermath began to catch up to her.

  He lifted his mouth and smoothed her hair back from her face, his gaze intent as he watched her. “We have to get to the truck and get warm. The sun will be going down soon, and we don’t want to get caught out here in wet clothes.”

  “All right.” He moved back, and she struggled to a sitting position. “Do you think Norman will call the authorities, have them looking for our bodies or something?”

  “I doubt it. I don’t guess you heard what he yelled.”

  “I heard someone yell something, but I couldn’t tell what it was.”

  “He yelled, ‘Good luck.’ “

  Astounded, she blinked at him. Then she began snickering as she slowly climbed to her feet. She guessed Norman wasn’t the type to worry about what happened to anyone except himself.

  Swaying, she took stock. The backpack he’d been carrying was long gone, of course. She was aching from head to foot, but she couldn’t tell if it was from the battering force of the water or if it was sheer muscle fatigue. She was lucky; she didn’t think she’d hit anything hard enough to injure herself, and she thanked God for the depth of the river, which had probably saved their lives. If it had been shallower, they likely would have been killed on some rocks.

  Both her sneakers were gone, as was one sock. How that other sock had stayed on she couldn’t imagine. Her wristwatch was ruined, the face crushed. Likewise her sweater was gone, but she’d only had it around her shoulders, not buttoned.

  Diaz was looking down at her feet. “You can’t walk like that,” he said, and began unb