Read Morgan's Rescue for Free Online

his darkest hour? All he'd wanted was Pilar at his side. He'd been scared, seeing his whole twenty-five years of life flash before his closed eyes. Yet as soon as they'd made it to the hospital, she'd disappeared. The last memory of Pilar he had was of her running alongside the gurney as the ambulance attendants raced with it toward an operating room. He'd been bleeding to death. Pilar had been crying, gripping his limp, nerveless hand. Her long, luxurious hair had been damp and twisted into strands, the expression on her face one of sheer terror, and those lips…Culver groaned. No one had a mouth quite like Pilar's. Full and almost heart-shaped, it had drawn him like a hummingbird to a rosy bloom filled with sweet nectar.
          With a sigh, Culver crossed his arms over his chest. It was agony to be here. God knew , he'd fought Jake about this assignment. He wanted no part of teaming up with Pilar—not after what had happened. How could he trust her? His heart certainly couldn't. After he'd nearly died in that hospital, he'd tried many times to contact her. And to what end? Hector would merely say Pilar was undercover and couldn't be contacted, and eventually Culver had gotten the message. After all, even undercover agents came off the job to rest once in a while.
          Pilar's canary yellow breeches showed off hips and long legs as slender as he remembered. At this distance, he couldn't see her face clearly, but the outline of her form was unmistakable, and unwillingly he acknowledged the tightening in his lower body at the memory of her. Culver drew in a deep, ragged breath and closed his eyes. How he'd tried to forget the feel of her warm, sleek body against his. Forget her small, delicate hands restlessly roaming his chest, his shoulders, eliciting firestorms as she caressed him, her eyes big in wonderment. . . .
          "Stop it!" he snarled aloud. He turned, hoping no one had heard him, but the breezeway was empty. An old, limping dog approached him, wagging its tail. Angry at himself for allowing the vault of memories to spill out from beneath his steel control, Culver leaned over and patted the dog's head absently.
          He had no time to waste. He had to let her know he was here. It was the last thing Culver wanted to do—face the sight of rejection in her eyes. He'd never really cared what anyone thought of him until Pilar came along. She was different, exotic—like the heady fragrance of the orchids that laced the jungle trees. And when she'd opened to him, he'd believed he'd met the woman who could fulfill him on every conceivable level. Like an orchid stretched fully into bloom, she had given herself to him, allowing him to inhale her dizzying fragrance.
          To this day, Pilar haunted his dreams. He still had torrid, sensual dreams about her touch, the way she looked at him, that caressing smile that shot through him like hot sunlight, letting him know he was the center of her world. Well, it wasn't so. He'd stupidly made the assumption that Pilar felt about him the way he did about her. Culver had never fallen in love with anyone before Pilar—or since. Maybe that's why she was always in his heated, humid, jungle-like dreams like some ethereal fog that would reach out, tease him, and yet as he tried to grab it and embrace it, would dissolve upon his contact. Or, maybe the silent, dangerous jaguar who owned the jungle.
          Anxiety riffled through him. Humiliation. Desire. He felt all those things as he decided to step from his hiding place and walk to the pipe fence where Pilar could see him. How would she look at him? Hector had said she knew he'd been assigned as her partner for this highly dangerous mission.
          As he pushed away from the beam and straightened, Culver felt the weight of worry press down on his broad shoulders. A terrible anxiety was building in his chest. No matter how angry or hurt he was about how Pilar had treated him, he didn't want her