The Missionary

Stone sighed. “Wren, are you sure this is—”

“You kissed me in the lobby,” Wren cut in. “You can’t pretend it didn’t mean something to you. It did for me. And I saw your eyes. I’m learning to read you, you know.”

“Wren—”

“You said you don’t do cute. Well, what about me?”

“You’re not cute,” Stone growled. “You’re beautiful. So much more than beautiful. You’re strong. You’re tough. You’re sweet. And you’re sexy.”

Wren’s face split into a smile, but it quickly faded into seriousness. “Will you kiss me again? Please?”

Stone closed his eyes briefly. “I’m not sure this is the best time or place.”

“I’m not asking for anything else. Just a kiss.”

“There’s no such thing as ‘just a kiss.’”

“Sure there is.”

“Not with me, there’s not.” He had to look away from her, away from her desire-hot eyes. “You’ve been through hell. We’re both hurt and filthy. And now all of a sudden we’re gonna kiss?”

“This isn’t sudden, Stone. I’ve wanted you to kiss me…for so long. For like—since the first time I met you. Every time we played guitar, I would have to make myself focus on the music instead of kissing you.”

Stone exhaled noisily. “But you’ve seen what I do. What I am. And you’re so sweet, so kind. So innocent.”

She pushed away from him angrily. “I’m not innocent. I’m not a virgin. And with everything I’ve been through over the last few days, I’m even less innocent. I know what I want. I want you. I’ve always wanted you. And you know it, too. We talked about this before we left for Manila.”

Stone scrubbed his face. “Dammit. I don’t even know…I don’t know what to say.”

“Tell me how you feel. Tell me what you’re thinking. Do you feel the same way? Do you really just see me as just a friend? Or just a student? If so, I’ll drop this. But I don’t think you do. I think there’s more.” Her hand, till now resting on his chest, slid upward, touched his jaw.

Stone swallowed hard. “Yeah, there’s more.”

“So what do you want to do about that?”

Her hand on his jaw was soft and delicate and warm. It made it hard for him to think. “I’m not sure it’s right to do anything about it. I—I’m not…I’m not good. For…you.”

Wren didn’t answer right away. She just stared at him, into him. “I think your problem is you don’t think you’re good, full stop.”

“I’m not.”

“What if I don’t agree, and don’t care if you are or aren’t?”

“You should.”

She groaned in frustration, rolling away from him. “God, you’re so stubborn.”

“Wren, it’s not a matter of desire. That’s exactly the problem. I do desire. I just— I’m not sure it’s okay to let it happen.”

“Shouldn’t I have some say in that?” She wasn’t turning back to him.

“Maybe. But…right now?”

“All I wanted was another kiss. Just…to see how it felt again. To…distract myself.”

“Distract yourself from what?”

She finally rolled back to face him, and her eyes were wet. “All this. Everything. Being here, in Manila. I… can’t let myself cry about it, or I won’t stop. And…the withdrawal is driving me crazy. I hurt. I’m tired. I’m scared. And I can’t even begin to think about the things I’ve seen. Those girls getting raped. Almost being sold for sex myself. Men being killed in front of me. You getting shot. I just…I want to pretend, even for thirty fucking seconds, that it’s just you and me in a hotel room, alone. Nothing else to deal with. Is that so wrong?” She wiped her eyes with both hands. “I just…I want to feel something else.”

Stone let go, then. He couldn’t help but draw her to him, wrap her in his arms. This time, she turned her face up, eyes closed, and he let it happen. He let his lips touch hers, gently, gently. Hesitantly.

He’d wanted it too, after all. Ever since the first time he’d walked in to his high school buddy Nick’s church and saw her for the first time. Now here she was, basically begging him, and making a pretty damn good case for why it was okay to do this. To kiss her like this.

It was magical. The macho guy in Stone hated how girly that sounded in his head. But it was the truth. All the girls he’d kissed, on base and off, on deployment and on leave, none of them compared to the way this kiss felt.

Her lips touched his, and at first they merely touched. Soft, wet, and warm. And then her mouth moved, and she was kissing him, moving her lips against his, seeking, searching, opening, and he wanted more. He let his tongue slip out and she tasted it with her own. Her palm touched his face, lay flat against his cheek and she was writhing against him, lost in the kiss.

He was lost, too. He couldn’t have stopped the kiss if he’d wanted to, and he didn’t want to. He wanted to let it go on forever, just kiss her like this. It was just a kiss, but it was more. It was him giving in, letting the things he’d felt for so long, wanted for long, rise to the surface.

Stone’s hand curled around her back, pulled her tighter against him, and then slipped back down to the small of her spine, rested and hesitated there, and then she pulled his lower lip into her mouth and sucked on it, and Stone’s hand moved down a few more inches to cup her backside over the towel.

Wren moaned into his mouth, let his lip go and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her hand clutched the column of his neck, and she kissed him, deeper than ever, with complete abandon. Stone felt the male need in him take over, and he moved his hand beneath the towel, touching bare skin, holding the supple globe of her ass in his hand and kissing her, trying to hang on to the last vestige of control. Gunshot or not, he couldn’t keep kissing her like this for much longer, or it would go where he couldn’t hold back.

He was already nearing that place. He moved his grip to the other side of her ass, marveling at how firm yet soft she was. She kissed him voraciously, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. It was primal, the way she kissed him, at odds with the sweet and innocent persona she gave off the rest of the time.

Stone’s other hand brushed her hair out of her face and held the back of her head, and now he opened himself up even more to the kiss, to the feelings she engendered in him.

Finally, Wren broke away, and she was panting. “Stone…”

“Yeah?”

“I know we’re both tired and hurt, but…stop holding back. Stop holding out on me.”

“If I don’t…this will—”

“You think I don’t understand exactly where it will go?” She supported her weight on one elbow, then hissed at the pull on her ribs, and moved to lay on him once more, but angled so she could meet his eyes. “What if that’s where I want it to go?” She still had the towel clamped closed around her chest, but she let go when she moved to lay against him, and Stone felt the fabric loosen.

If she moved away from him, the towel would fall open.

Stone knew his body had responded to the heat in her kiss, and she had her leg draped across his hips, so he knew she could feel the evidence of it. “Wren…” He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, or what to say. His reasoning, his logic, his resistance was riddled and tattered and fading.

“Stone.” She took his hand in hers and threaded their fingers together. “Stop trying to protect me from you.”

“I’m just trying—”

“I know. But…I’m a grown woman, okay? Sure, I’m young, but I’m adult, and I can choose for myself what I want. And this is what I want. Whatever we have, whatever we can have, wherever it goes. I want that. All of it. All of you. Whatever you’ll give me.”

“But what if—“

“And don’t say it’s just because you saved me, or because we’re going through this whole running from killers thing. It started before this, and will continue after it.”

“You’re assuming there is an after.”

Wren squeezed his hand. “Yes. I am assuming there’s an after. If I hadn’t assumed there would be an ‘after’, I wouldn’t have had the courage to get away from Cervantes in the first place. Not like positive thinking will