Page 82 of Bastard

His hands find my hips and I’m tugged back into his chest.

“Hayden.”

“Sleep,” he orders.

“But—”

“Four long years, Luciana. You can damn well be reassured I’ll be here in the morning.”

I relax. Feeling the palm of his hand on my abdomen and the warmth of his body against my back.

The night’s quiet and a sense of peace washes over me.

29

Hayden bends his head, leans in toward the man digging the ditch beside him and says something to him. Whatever it is, the man seems pleased as he resumes the task at hand with more vigor.

Our eyes lock from across the distance, and my cheeks warm beneath his regard. He always seems to be watching me. Or perhaps it’s because I can’t take my eyes off him?

In twenty-four hours, he’s won over the villager’s hearts, from five-year-old Bieto to Mustafa—who hasn’t stopped smiling. Despite a long history of manipulating people into trusting him, I too find myself fascinated by him. Ignoring someone like Hayden is like ignoring the sun during a heat wave, it dazzles you with its brightness while casting you into a heady daze. He’s born to lead and thrives on being in charge. It’s no surprise how everyone falls victim to his bossy charm. Killers, con men, cartel members ... women—all naturally gravitate toward him.

What does surprise me is how easily he manages it. We’ve been digging since daybreak, Hayden calling everyone into the village circle to pass out shovels from one of the boxes he must have retrieved before sunrise. I felt his absence in the predawn hours, when he slipped out of the bed we shared last night.

After one night, I already miss him.

Later, after falling back to sleep, I’d woken to the feel of his fingers caressing my lower abdomen, the silk of my nightgown gliding over my scars. What runs through his mind as he touches them? Regret? Remorse?

Right now, he’s stripped off his T-shirt and tucked it into the back pocket of his utility shorts, catching the attention of every woman with a pulse. The aloof, suited version of him, dangerous. A leather-wearing Hayden is deadly. But this? The raw, in-the-dirt, half-naked man, with a fine sheen of sweat on his body and that bossy look on his face? Pure, raw sexuality.

I should have seduced him last night instead of falling asleep.

His lips curl up at me before he turns his attention back to the work at hand.

“Ouch,” I mutter at the sharp pinch in my side. Mustafa winks and I roll my eyes.

“He watches you like a snake eagle.”

“Who?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Who?” she cackles. “Your husband, honey. A man like that will love you hard all night long.”

Dios. The memory of him doing just that sends a warm flush across my body. There was a time—a brief one—when he couldn’t keep his hands off me. “He’s probably checking our progress. Making sure this expanse of ditch gets dug before nightfall.”

“You will be making babies with that gorgeous man in no time. No doubt by the way he looks at you.”

I choke on thin air.

She pats me on the back.

Hadn’t Hayden said something similar Barrington back in Cape Town?

“The boxes of condoms are in the community center, in case my girl wants more loving before the babies come.”

“Mustafa,” I scold, pushing back onto my haunches and wiping the perspiration off my forehead. How do I reply to this? Sí, more loving, but the truth is I want his love too. “While I was gone, did the men return to Nmimpi for more condoms?” I change the subject.

Mustafa nods emphatically. “I have been giving out condoms like candy. A few men told these old ears they have had their women putting the condom on them, just like my girl showed them.”

My throat tightens. “¿En serio?” To say I’m pleased is an understatement. Safe sex means fewer AIDS diagnoses. Fewer sexually transmitted diseases. Healthier women and men. It’s what I came to Nmimpi to do.