“Valeria says her sister is fragile and desperate for safety. She claims that if you give it to Laila, she’ll ‘cling’ to you.”

  Trees had to laugh. “Fragile? No. And she’s the least clingy woman I’ve met. Like ever.”

  “I don’t know, man.” He heard the shrug in Zy’s voice. “That’s just what she said. So…be aware and be careful.”

  Laila grasping on to him wasn’t even a possibility, much less a concern, so Trees didn’t argue. “Sure.”

  After a few more minutes of shooting the shit, he hung up and headed inside. Hopefully, she would be asleep, so he could grab a quick shower and hit the bed. Maybe he would even be tired enough to sleep without erotic dreams of her plaguing him.

  Through the door, he found the space silent. A few scattered lights around the campground peeked in, blending with the bathroom light Laila always left on, revealing the fact that she lay on the far side of the bed, cuddled beneath the quilts, her dark hair spilling over the white sheets and onto his pillow.

  And just like that, he was hard again.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as he stripped by the shower, knowing he’d find no relief in the tiny enclosure. At least he’d be clean.

  After a quick rinse, he tossed on a fresh pair of basketball shorts, sans boxers, and made his way to the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge door, more to stall before lying next to Laila for another torturous night than because he was hungry.

  On the top shelf in the middle was the half of Laila’s dinner she hadn’t finished, along with a small square of cheese and a banana, all wrapped up neat and tight. A bottle of water sat right beside it. Did she intend to eat that hodgepodge for breakfast?

  Shaking his head, he shut the door and resolved to stop avoiding the inevitable.

  The walk to the bed took all of five steps. Thankfully, when he eased onto the mattress, she didn’t stir. Maybe she was getting more comfortable with him. Or at least beginning to believe he would never violate her against her will. Hell, maybe she really was starting to trust him.

  He rolled to his side, away from her, and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. That was the last thing he remembered.

  Until he woke sometime later to the shock of his life.

  Once Trees finished his long, low-voiced conversation outside the RV, Laila dashed to the bed, huddled under the blankets, and pretended to sleep. The door to the motorhome shut with a quiet click. His footsteps approached the little bedroom. Moments later, his gaze traveled over her. She repressed a shiver, but not because he scared her…at least not the way he used to.

  What she felt tonight wasn’t fear.

  Understanding this unfamiliar feeling wasn’t important. Reaching Valeria and Jorge was.

  Finally, Trees turned away. When he started the shower and climbed inside, Laila scampered from the bed and stepped into her nearby shoes. As she crept through the vehicle, she found the bathroom door ajar and froze. Risking her escape was stupid. So was poking the bear. But before she could tell herself that, she was already staring.

  The top of Trees’s dark head, along with his elbows and his hair-roughened knees, stuck out from behind the shower curtain. What did the rest of him look like inside that steamy cubicle, all wet and naked? Was he as muscled and masculine everywhere as his shoulders and chest suggested?

  Laila flashed hot at the questions and jerked away. What he looked like didn’t matter, except when measuring the superior size and strength he would undoubtedly use to bend her to his will.

  Quickly, she rifled through his duffel, but the cuffs she sought to bind him with, the ones with the dangling padlocks, were nowhere to be found. Ditto for the rest of the drawers and compartments in the motor home. That meant she had to scrap her easy Plan A. Plan B—running out the door now—it was.

  But before she could grab her things and make a mad dash for freedom, the shower cut off.

  Carajo! She wouldn’t get far before Trees gave chase. In less than two minutes, he would realize she was gone. What were her odds of finding helpful strangers or a ride to Louisiana that quickly?

  Zero.

  That left only dreaded Plan C: seducing him into a good night’s sleep.

  Laila pressed a hand to her tightening belly, dragged in a shaky breath, and sneaked back to the bedroom. As she approached the bed, she trembled and prayed and told herself everything would be all right. She could handle what came next. It wasn’t as if she’d never exchanged sex for favors before. She simply had to gather her courage.

  Don’t think; just do it. It will be over soon…

  Screwing her eyes shut tight, Laila dropped every stitch she wore, crawled into the bed, and closed her eyes, doing her best to dredge up gumption and calm.

  The next few minutes passed in the blink of an eye before Trees emerged from the bathroom. He paused in the kitchen, and she held her breath, hoping like hell that he wouldn’t notice anything amiss. When he shut the refrigerator door a moment later, she was sure she’d avoided raising suspicion. And when he settled onto the mattress beside her, turning away to give her the illusion of space and privacy, she waited, her lips pressed together to hold in a whimper as she stared through the window at the crisp, still night.

  Soon, she would be out there—and on her way to Valeria and Jorge. All she had to do was make sure Trees slept soundly.

  When she finally heard his soft snoring, she mentally counted to one hundred and tried to work up her fortitude. Then she did it again. Not that it helped. Trees would likely wake up before she finished the task ahead. He woke up anytime she so much as had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. And what would likely happen after that terrified her.

  Once she reached one hundred a second time, Laila forced herself to stop stalling and eased the covers off her naked body, shivering in the winter air. Or was she trembling because she had figurative cold feet? After all, Trees hadn’t given her permission to touch him. And he’d been nice…in a gruff sort of way. Definitely nicer than any of Emilo’s lackeys and thugs.

  But none of that mattered. Jorge and his health came first, so she shoved away the useless guilt. It wouldn’t help her survive or bring her family back together. If Trees didn’t like anything she did to him, he had the luxury of saying no and pushing her away—something she’d never had. She wouldn’t force him.

  But she’d bet he wouldn’t turn her down.

  Pushing the thought aside, she balanced on her knees and inched across the mattress to where he slept curled on his side, his back looking big and broad and impossibly strong.

  Laila gulped. He could overpower her easily. In seconds. Without breathing hard or breaking a sweat.

  But she had to push forward. Whatever he wanted from her, whatever it took to ensure he fell into a satisfied stupor, she would do it. Not fighting him would be hard. Pretending to enjoy his touch would be worse. But she didn’t see another way.

  Her heart rattled wildly against her chest as she reached under the blankets and slowly, slowly tugged the elastic of his shorts down, past his buttocks. He didn’t jolt or wake or ask what the hell she was up to. Laila released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

  Next, she pulled the blankets over his hip and his arm before laying her palm on top, then eased him onto his back. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours a night since they’d left Florida. His fatigue should work to her advantage.

  As he settled in the new position, his snoring stopped. Laila winced as she sat back and waited. Again, she counted to one hundred. Thankfully, his snoring resumed. Then, with her heart gonging like a drum, she eased the sheet down to his knees.

  She held her breath as she wriggled the elastic band of his shorts past his hips and settled it around his thighs. Mission accomplished. Thank God, he was still sleeping. She had an apology, albeit flimsy, in place in case he woke, but she needed the head between his legs to be doing his thinking by then.

  Laila had tried to avoid looking at Trees there. His feet were huge and his thighs were nearly as big as her middle. God knew those massive hands of his could encircle her waist, and he picked her up as if she weighed nothing. So she expected his jumbo size to extend to the parts of him she hadn’t seen.

  But nothing had prepared her for what she laid her eyes on.

  She gaped and froze, forgetting to breathe until her lungs burned. Dios mío. Flaccid, he was the size of most men erect.

  How big would he be fully engorged?

  It doesn’t matter. Think of reaching your sister and your nephew.

  Before she lost her nerve, Laila slowly wrapped her hand around Trees’s warm, soft penis and began to stroke it.

  His snoring stuttered as he swelled in her hand, growing, growing, growing until she could no longer curl her fingers completely around his steely girth.

  Within seconds, he was at full—huge—staff, the massive head turning purple. He was definitely erect enough for her purposes, so she opened her mouth and leaned in. Her jaw strained as she wedged him between her lips, taking him as deep as she could. Though his crest hit the back of her throat, she hadn’t even taken half of him on her tongue. How could she possibly fit all of him in her mouth?

  Hector had liked it when she gagged. He’d taken particular delight in tying her hands behind her back and—

  No. Now wasn’t the time to think about that. She must focus on Trees, on giving him pleasure. On stimulating him to climax so he slept through her escape.

  Laila eased back, dragging her lips up his shaft, her hands following, before slipping down and sinking into a rhythm.

  Impossibly, he got harder. And he moaned in his sleep, moving restlessly on the bed, his head twisting slowly from side to side, as if he was in sensual distress. His lids started jerking. What or who was he dreaming about? It didn’t matter. She hoped he didn’t wake until it was too late. If she was really lucky, he would never be aware she had sucked him off at all. He would simply fall into a deeper sleep and not open his eyes until morning. And she would be long gone.

  But soon, her jaw protested. The discomfort forced her to lift up his shaft and focus on the head, licking and sucking the most sensitive spots. He moaned louder.

  Once, she’d performed this act several times a day, especially if she wanted to eat. She was out of practice, yes. But this felt different. Of course, she’d never had a cock this large in her mouth. What made the experience truly unique was the fact Trees hadn’t shoved her to her knees and yanked on her hair until her mouth opened with a gasp of pain, clearing the way for him to barge inside and fuck her face because her humiliation pleased him. He didn’t try to choke or suffocate her. He didn’t smell like sweat, desert, or another woman but like soap and man and the very trees from which he derived his name.

  Suddenly he cupped her crown, urging her closer, before his fingers filtered through her hair. “Hmm…Laila.”

  She cut a startled stare to his face. But his eyes were still closed, his lids bobbing.

  He was having an erotic dream…about her?

  That didn’t merely panic her. Oh, she felt the shaking anxiety. Her heart rate went jittery. But she also felt something warmer she couldn’t explain. Maybe it had something to do with the sight of him spread out underneath her, all male and muscled and surprisingly nonthreatening.

  He’s asleep, you fool. As soon as he wakes up…

  Laila didn’t have to finish that thought. History told her what he would most likely do.

  Time to redouble her efforts and bring him to climax quickly.

  His free hand joined the first, sliding into her hair. He wrapped his fingers around her tresses and gave a gentle tug, then nudged her farther onto his erection with a tender suggestion from his fingers, moaning her name once more.

  A terrified part of her wanted to defy his silent promptings and simply run away. But she’d learned to be pragmatic, so she cast another anxious glance at his face to ensure he slept on and gave in to the rhythm he set.

  Laila closed her eyes, trying to separate her mind from her body and float away someplace else so she didn’t have to be—yet again—giving a man pleasure at her own expense. Except…Trees’s scent and gentle hands kept her in the here and now. The way he stroked her head. The way his moans sounded like praise. The way he rolled his hips under her, seemingly in thanks.

  “Laila…” he whispered slow and soft.

  Appreciation dripped from his sensual, sleepy groan. She wasn’t eager to continue exactly, but for the first time, she didn’t hate this act. A dangerous curiosity urged her on… She didn’t feel like his victim but like a seductress working for her lover’s pleasure.

  That excited her. And it disturbed her, too.

  Softly, she hummed. Victor had often demanded she do that because he liked the sensation. Trees also enjoyed it, if the low moan that suddenly tore from his throat was any indication.

  Laila would have sworn it wasn’t possible, but Trees got harder. His end must be near.

  That realization was bittersweet. The fact she didn’t loathe this act… It was a shock, a revelation. For the first time, she had some control over what happened between her and a man. She could exert her will, and he was merely along for the ride.

  Oddly, it was…exciting.

  She took more of him in her mouth, bobbing, sucking, swirling her tongue around him, experimenting to find what made him stiffen and moan. When his crest prodded the back of her throat, she paused. Victor and Hector had both demanded that she swallow on them. Would that maneuver work on Trees? Would it be the thing that sent him into climax?

  Laila dragged in a deep breath and worked her throat over him. He groaned again, this time louder, deeper. His hand tightened in her hair, and she braced for him to force her down onto his cock until she couldn’t breathe. But he didn’t. He merely urged her lower with a prod from his fingers and another lift of his hips. He was firm but not harsh. Urgent but not forceful.

  She’d never experienced anything like this.

  So she did it again.

  Once more, a verbal growl of need tore from his throat. A subversive part of her was thrilled. Why? She was stimulating him in his sleep, against his will. If she enjoyed his reaction, did that make her any better than Victor and Hector?

  Laila pushed the horrible question aside. She wasn’t hurting Trees. And she wasn’t taking him in her mouth for her own selfish pleasure. She would give him something he seemingly wanted. And in return, she would get something she needed. After all, everything came at a price. She’d learned that long ago. And she was merely paying up front for her freedom.

  After she took another long draw on his steely staff, Trees’s fingers tightened in her hair. To her shock, she didn’t despise that, either, especially when his breaths turned choppy and his body went taut.

  He was close.

  Another deep plunge into her mouth while she worked him at the back of her throat ought to send him tumbling into ecstasy…then sleep.

  But when she lowered herself onto his massive cock again and positioned him against her throat, he stiffened beneath her. And he called out her name. “Laila!”

  She glanced up. His eyes were open and dilated—and fixed on her.

  Chapter Six

  Trees was awake.

  Laila froze. Anxiety seared her veins.

  “What are you doing?” he asked through gritted teeth. Every muscle in his body shook and strained as he fought need.

  Stop…or continue?

  Her thoughts raced as breaths rushed in and out of her nose. Seconds ticked by. He tugged on her hair again, tight enough to take control. She was hyperaware of his touch, of the heaviness and masculine flavor of him on her tongue.

  Laila didn’t dare answer him truthfully. He would cuff her again. God knew what he’d do then. He might take advantage of her in ways that, despite the horror she’d endured, she had never experienced. Besides, she couldn’t talk with her lips around him. She suspected he didn’t want her to.

  She closed her eyes and tried to lower her mouth on his length, but he held too tight for her to take in even another inch. So she wrapped her tongue around his shaft and slid up to bathe his engorged crest.

  “Fuck…” He tossed his head back, his fingers tightening in her tresses. “Laila…”

  “Let me give you pleasure,” she murmured in her most seductive tone.

  “I shouldn’t.”

  “But you want this, yes?” She attempted to lower her lips on him again.

  Trees stopped her, closing her mouth with a thumb beneath her chin. “More importantly, is this what you want?”

  She nodded, giving him her softest, most suggestive doe eyes. Then she pursed her lips, which must be swollen after having him in her mouth. Men didn’t usually need more encouragement.

  His stare followed her gesture, but beyond his tight expression and choppy breaths, she couldn’t gauge his reaction. That meant he was thinking.

  That was bad.

  Suddenly, Trees rolled her to her back and followed, hovering above her and pinning her down, thankfully without settling his weight on her. “Why? You’ve been terrified of me since we met.”

  “You have shown you will not hurt me.” She arched her breasts at him enticingly. “I want to know what you feel like.”

  He searched her face. Then his gaze fell, fixating on her nipples. The buds felt hard. Tight. Blood scorched her veins and pooled where she began to ache. Because she feared him? Or for some other reason?

  “It’s not smart, Laila.”

  “I will feel safer with you…”

  “If you gargle my cock?” His eyes narrowed. “Really?”

  Over the years she had learned ways to allay a man’s suspicions. She sent flirtatious glances and fluttered her lashes. She licked her lips. She smiled invitingly. “Of course.”

  “I’m calling bullshit.”

  She tried not to panic. “Truly. You are not like any man I have known.”