Page 21 of Breaking Danger
“How many?”
“About two hundred.”
“Are we okay on supplies?”
“So far, yeah. And Manuel’s hydroponic vats are coming online. I heard there was a two ton tomato harvest. Start counting on lots of pasta and tomato sauce.”
She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite work. “I’m so worried, Nick,” she confessed.
“Yeah.” He leaned forward until his forehead rested against hers. “I know.”
“I’m scared they won’t get the virus and vaccine to us and we’ll live the rest of our lives behind ten foot walls, terrified of strangers. I’m scared Sophie won’t make it. I’m even scared for Jon, though I know he can handle himself.”
“Tomorrow night Jon and Sophie and the virus will be here. Count on it. And you and your genius girlfriends disappear to the lab, will work day and night to manufacture the virus and then mass produce it. I won’t see you for weeks. So how about a little hanky panky right now? Like a little advance payment?”
A laugh bubbled out of her, then a sob, then a laugh.
Love. Making love. In the middle of mass death. Yes. She and Nick had been separated for so long, and the future looked so dark.
Life in the middle of death, oh yes.
She ran her hands over his broad shoulders, loving the vital, strong feel of him. Life pulsed in him, strong and steady. She linked her hands behind his neck and pulled him to her.
“Now,” she whispered against his mouth. “Now, Nick. Hard and fast. Make me forget all this. Make me feel alive.”
He kissed her, hard, deep, one big hand holding her still for his kiss as if she would pull away from him. The idea was ridiculous. She would never pull away from Nick, turn her back on him. She loved him.
Nick lifted his head for just a second, the hand cupping her head becoming a cradle. Watching her eyes, his other hand slowly unzipped her hoodie, brushing it off her shoulders. It slid softly to the couch behind her. His large, warm hand brushed her back and in a second her bra was off, too. She knew he loved seeing her naked and truth be told, she loved it too. His dark eyes grew hot, his face tightened, the skin over his cheekbones flushed. Arousal was all over his face, but instead of a big grin—the grin of a man about to have sex with a woman he desired—his face was somber.
He held her, tightly, so tightly her ribs protested. His face dipped to her neck suddenly and she felt wetness on her neck. Tears? From Nick Ross?
His voice was muffled against the skin of her neck but she understood every word.
“Nothing bad will happen to you as long as we’re together, Elle. I promise you that. As long as I’m with you, you’ll be safe.”
San Francisco
Beach Street
“If you wantto take that shower, Jon, go right ahead. There seems to be plenty of water.”
He dipped his head. “In that case, I’d love a shower. I’ll make it fast.”
She smiled at him. “I don’t have anything that would fit you, but I have the new FastWash combo. Give me your clothes and they’ll be washed and dried by the time you get out. And then we’ll eat something and then we’ll talk.”
Jesus. Hot shower. Clean clothes. Food.
Sex.
Jon tried to keep that last thought out of his head. He had to practically nuke it out because that’s what he wanted, muchmuchmore than the shower and the food. Just dive right back into luscious Sophie Daniels, slide right into that tight warm sheath and forget about the world.
Oh yeah.
Thank God he had a poker face. Came in real handy when undercover. Jon never let anything he didn’t want anyone to see show on his face, so right now he plastered a pleasant, polite smile on it and thanked her. A proper hostess offering comforts to a guest. She didn’t know that the guest was planning on getting back inside her just as fast as he could and that the shower was to make him more acceptable to her and the food was going to be fuel because—the way he felt right now? He was going to fuck her all through the night.
This might be his last chance at sex, which was OK because man, after having a taste of Sophie Daniels, no other woman would do. The last woman he’d fucked had been—Christ. He couldn’t remember. Maybe that lady he’d met at the diner in Bakersfield after spending the afternoon buying a consignment of servers with fake ID. Bottle blonde, a little sad, a little too eager for sex. For an uncomfortable moment there he’d wondered if she was a working girl because that’s where he drew the line.
But no. She’d been happy enough with him just buying her dinner. And spending the night with him.
