by Isabel Wroth
Surprisingly, the prospect didn't upset her.
From the day Nasa had come up to Dallas—even as she'd fought it—he'd made her feel safe. He'd done nothing but give to her, and Nasa was about to give more.
Dillon stared at herself, her hands braced on the white marble sink, and made a decision.
She went to the bathroom, washed her hands, stripped out of her clothes, folded them neatly on the sink, and took several deep breaths.
The air was cool enough to make her skin prickle, but as soon as she opened the door and walked into the main room, her temperature soared.
Nasa turned at the sound of her entry, the smooth black rock in his hand fell to the floor with a loud smack, and he stared at her in obvious surprise.
Her heart thundered in her ears as she walked to him completely naked, and as gracefully as she knew how, knelt at his feet.
He didn't move so much as a muscle for a least sixty seconds, frozen in shock. Nervous as hell, Dillon leaned forward to pick up the rock he'd dropped and offered it to him with a smile.
Their fingers touched, and Dillon felt the electricity race down her arm to sizzle between her thighs. Elka thought it was time to sit pretty because she sat right down beside Dillon, both of them looking up at Nasa, patiently waiting for him to say something.
The longer he went without speaking, the more nervous tension built inside Dillon's chest. She could see the arousal naked on his face, the flush of heat on his cheeks, and the obvious monster attempting to burst free from his jeans, but had she crossed some kind of line? Maybe she hadn’t done it right.
Before she could really get on a roll with thoughts of how she might have messed up, Nasa set the rock on the counter to his left, then reached down to cup her cheek. Her skin must have been cool because his palm felt scalding hot.
He brushed his thumb back and forth across her skin; the gentleness in his touch, wiped away her uncertainty like steam from the surface of a mirror.
“What are you doing?” His voice cut through the silence like the strike of a mallet to a gong.
Relaxation trickled down from where he touched her face, all the way to the soles of her feet. She felt confident in having made the right decision, because the look in his eyes was everything Dillon hadn't known she needed.
“I decided in the bathroom that you're bending over backward to make sure I have everything I need, and I want to try and give back something that's part of what you need.”
“How does it feel?” he rasped, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.
Dillon breathed through the arousal tying her belly in knots, turning her cheek into his hand. “I feel calm. I'm not sure if I'm doing it right, and the roller coaster adrenaline is still there, but it doesn't feel wrong. Am I supposed to call you Sir?”
Heat flared in his gaze, but he said, “No. We haven't talked about that yet, but the rule is you call me what I deserve. Come up here and let me kiss you.”
Nasa reached down to help her up, and the feeling of kissing him while completely naked was an experience she'd never forget.
The leather of his cut felt cool and smooth against her breasts, but every shift of his body against hers made her nipples brush up against his club patches. A firm scratch followed by a slick slide.
The metal of his NASA embossed belt buckle was like the press of a stethoscope, cold against her stomach, quick to warm.
His jeans rasped against her legs, and beneath the denim, she felt the unmistakably hard pole of his cock pressed tight against her, throbbing in time to the rhythm of his heartbeat.
With Dillon's arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, their lips dueling passionately, Nasa's hands were free to roam across her back.
She held her breath at the scrape of her scars against his palms, stunned by how sensitive she was to his touch.
He didn't hesitate or give her feather light touches, and for a moment Dillon completely forgot she didn't have smooth, unmarred skin.
When she shuddered, Nasa murmured a soft, animalistic sound as he gently raked his teeth over her bottom lip, his fingertips dancing over a long stripe across her left ass cheek.
Never in her life had Dillon ever considered that a raised, six-inch-long scar could possibly be an erogenous zone, but the way Nasa's fingers whispered up and down the length of it made chills race across her skin, lighting her up to the point where she could feel the arousal seeping from her pussy and down her inner thighs.
He drew away with a soft hiss, giving her butt a healthy squeeze. “Belly down, under the covers before I forget why we came up here.”
Dizzy and buzzing with desire, Dillon was glad for the arm Nasa wrapped around her waist. He helped her the few feet to the table, lifting the edge of the blanket for her to lay down. She couldn't help but moan in bliss when she felt the toasty warmth of the linens.
“Is there a heater in the table or something?”
“Mmhm. Feel good?” When the table moved beneath her, Nasa reassured her that it was hydraulic and meant to go up and down to suit the person giving the massage.
Dillon turned her head, very clearly able to see his reflection in the mirrors. “So good.”
Nasa pulled the sheets up and folded them across her shoulders, running his palm flat along her spine. The weight of the blankets, the heat of the table, and the firm stroke of his hand caused Dillon to melt into the table.
The arousal lingered, but relaxation stole through her, and she silently gave herself a cheer for having been brave enough to take this step. It felt amazing.
In the darkened room, there was no sense of time. No sounds except the barely audible music, a random snore from somewhere beneath her that said Elka opted to take a nap, and the rustle of Nasa's clothes as he moved around her.
Head turned to the side; Dillon watched him in the mirrors and not because she was uncomfortable or uneasy.
She watched him because he had this look of contentment and concentration on his face that enthralled her. He didn't speak other than to ask if she was alright, and the expression of his enjoyment never wavered.
When he finished with her back, Dillon rolled over at his instruction, staring up at the sparkle of light through the perforated metal.
As he got to work massaging her arms and legs again, Dillon sank into the realization she hadn't felt unsafe or vulnerable, and she hadn't once thought about the fastest way to escape the room should something go wrong.
Dillon hadn't fought or felt the need to overthink the many reasons why she needed to remain hyperaware. Her brain simply decided Nasa was in control, therefore nothing bad would happen to her.
After an extremely thorough massage of her shoulders, Nasa slid his hand under her skull and lifted up to tuck a hot, steamy towel beneath her neck.
Almost instantly, the sore muscles tweaked from her uncomfortable night spent on his couch turned soft as melted candle wax.
When he finished, Nasa helped her sit up, using more hot towels to wipe every bit of excess oil from her body.
“Thank you for doing this,” she managed to say.
“Thank you for asking,” he answered sincerely, then bent to press a kiss to her forehead. “How do you feel?”
Dillon thought about the low hum still vibrating through her body, wondering why he hadn't dipped his hands lower between her legs or across her breasts.
She would have welcomed any of that, but he'd been diligent about tucking the sheets around her legs to preserve her modesty.
“I feel a little drunk. Buzzed, I guess, in a good way. I just laid there while you did all the work, but I'm exhausted.”
“That's normal,” he assured her, threading his fingers into her hair while he stared deeply into her eyes. “Do you want to have a bath here or at home?”
Dillon nuzzled into his hands, thinking about how right that word felt. How different it sounded when it came from his mouth. Nasa said, 'home,' and Dillon immediately envisioned the compound.
She'd lived in h
er house in Dallas for nearly five years, and she couldn't recall a time where she felt one hundred percent safe there.
Constantly checking the locks, reviewing her security cameras, worrying about whether or not she'd secured the front gate after driving through.
An odd rush of emotion swept through her, preventing her from speaking any louder than a whisper. “At home.”
“Okay,” Nasa answered, matching the softness of her voice. “I need to clean up and switch out the linens; do you need help getting dressed?”
“I don't think so.” Still, she let him help her off the table and waited for a second to make sure her legs would support her before taking off for the bathroom.
Time continued to float on by, and before she knew it, Nasa was helping her up into his truck. The muted roar of the engine and the motion of the tires on the road nearly lulled her to sleep.
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The hand Nasa had curled around her thigh tensed before he drew away, and the hazy feeling of relaxation disappeared with all the subtlety of a gunshot.
“Dillon, we're not far from the compound and we've got a vehicle coming up fast behind us. I need you to...” He hadn't finished speaking, and Dillon had her Colt Defender in hand, ready for action.
She turned in her seat, giving Elka the command to lie down and stay low, looking out through the back window to see a nondescript white SUV, hauling ass toward their bumper.
“Where the fuck did that come from?” Nasa demanded roughly.
She felt the powerful acceleration of the truck and split her attention between watching their tail and admiring Nasa's skillful maneuvers in and out of traffic.
The drivers of the smaller cars he roared past weren't nearly as impressed, honking their horns, throwing up middle fingers, but Nasa never wavered or hesitated.
Calm settled over her, ice cold steadiness, even though her heart rate was through the roof.
“All my leggings have concealed carry pockets. White SUV coming fast in the right-hand lane. License plate BMFU674.”
Nasa gave a darkly amused snort. “Bumfuckers, ha!”
“What do you need me to do?”
She caught Nasa giving her a molten hot look of lust, but his voice was all business.
“You just did it. Now tighten your seatbelt. I'm calling it in, and we're going to lead whoever is following us through the back entrance of the compound. Remind me to get a seatbelt harness for Elka. I don't like that she's not strapped in.”
Her already pounding heart gave a flutter to hear the anger in Nasa's voice, concerned about her dog not being secure. If Dillon hadn't been watching the SUV gain on them, she might have leaned over and kissed him.
The truck chimed when he activated the hands free, and two rings in, Top answered the phone, “Where the hell are you? That jackhole from Houston has been blowing up my goddamn phone for the last two hours because he doesn't have the breakdown of all the ways his toad suckin' wife is bleedin' him dry, and someone changed all the goddamn passwords again without givin' me a list.”
Nasa gave a frustrated sigh. “Having a list of passwords written down defeats the purpose, Top. That's why I put the retina scanner on your desktop, so you don't need passwords, but the jackhole's gonna have to wait. I'm on my way back with Dillon, and we have an aggressive tail.”
Top's voice went hard and tight in a flash. “Location?”
Nasa rattled off the street names and the license plate she'd tagged. “They're about three car lengths behind us, and they're not even trying to be stealthy. So far they haven't—”
“Gun,” Dillon interrupted calmly, watching an arm hook out the passenger window, followed by a head and shoulders.
She took a quick photo, hoping to get a clear picture of the dark-haired man with an assault rifle in his hands.
“They're going to aim for the back tires. I can try to take out one of theirs or the driver.”
A beat of silence filled the car, and Top spoke first, “Where'd she get a gun?”
“She had it on her,” Nasa drawled, and Dillon didn't mistake the hint of pride in his voice. “The glass of the truck is bulletproof, Dillon, and the tires are all-terrain puncture proof prototypes. They can empty a clip in all four, and we won't go flat.”
Nasa hooked a sharp turn that flung Dillon back into her seat and made her lose her grip on her phone, just as the asshole behind them ripped off a series of shots.
“I'm about to turn down 2147, Top. At my rate of speed, we'll be at the back gate in eight minutes. Comin' in hot.”
“No shit,” Top snapped irately, then went on to be heard throughout the compound. “Saint! Lock down everything except the rear gate. Ruckus, call the women and get a head count.
"All hands, code orange! I repeat, code orange! Prepare for attack at the rear entrance. One vehicle; two or more hostiles inbound!”
Just before the echo of a klaxon sounded through the truck's Bluetooth, Dillon heard someone give a wild, "YEEEE-HAW."
Nasa give a smirk as he made another hard right, avoiding the second barrage of gunfire.
If the glass hadn't been bulletproof, the rear window would have completely shattered instead of only partially fractured, and she'd have taken a bullet to the face.
“I'd really like to shoot out their tires now,” Dillon sang, tasting her pulse as the adrenaline and fear started to pool in her stomach.
“This ain't some action flick, cowgirl! Don't you fuckin' dare stick your head or an arm out the window and risk getting shot!” Top ordered in what had to be his drill sergeant voice.
“The Tank is built to withstand anything unless you open a window and compromise the integrity of the cab. I know you're scared, just sit tight. Nasa will get you home in one piece.”
There it was again, that word. Home.
“We're all set here,” Top told them confidently. “Himbo is heading up in the blind, and Damon is moving the flip in place. Keep left when you pass the red zone; we'll mop up the mess. ETA?”
“Five minutes,” Nasa answered. “Make sure everyone maintains cover until after the SUV hits the flip.”
“Copy that.”
Nasa counted down the closer they got to the compound, never taking his eyes off the road to judge how far behind them the SUV was.
His focus was fixed ahead, and while she could feel the simmering rage emanating from him, Nasa remained calm. It would strike her as strange later, even with bullets flying at them, Dillon wasn't afraid.
She trusted Nasa with her life.
He made a final turn, and Dillon saw the familiar black wrought-iron fencing that surrounded the entire compound. They were going so fast everything seemed to be a blur, and with one final push, Nasa sped through the opening and swerved left, coming to a stop just beyond the treeline.
Dillon looked back to see the SUV whip around with a squeal of rubber on asphalt and take off back the way they'd come.
“What the hell?” Nasa growled, throwing the truck in park as he twisted around to get a better look at the retreating vehicle.
“Talk to me,” Top snapped tersely.
Nasa shook his head, clearly baffled. “They just... they fuckin'... turned around!”
“Well, shit.” Top grunted, his frustration and disappointment coming through loud and clear. “The boys got all dressed up for nothin’.”
As though summoned, Dillon watched eight armed men in fancy black body armor—complete with sci-fi looking helmets—melt out of the trees.
“Alright, lock it up and come on back to the house.”
Top hung up, and Nasa looked at her after blowing out a harsh sigh.
“You can holster that cute little gun now, Tiger Lily. It's over.”
Over. Just like that. Seriously?
*****
Nasa felt the rush of adrenaline of making it home safe, the disappointment of not getting that damn SUV onto their turf to take it out, and a vicious twist of arousal that came from the realization Dillon had been armed t
his whole time without him noticing.
When he looked over at her, he saw Dillon's hand shake when she pulled her loose tank up and holstered her compact Defender, but it wasn't fear he saw in her expression. In fact, she looked pissed.
Dillon glanced back and reached out to touch Elka, who sat up and had plenty to say about their wild ride, expressed in short growling grunts.
Soon as they got back to the compound, Nasa planned to get in touch with his leather maker for a custom dog harness.
If they had to do evasive maneuvers again, he didn't want Elka to get bounced around or potentially hurt.
“You good?” he asked, wondering if it was adrenaline that had Dillon's nipples pressing hard against her shirt.
“Balls out honesty?” she asked tersely.
Nasa was coming to like this code of theirs because every time she said 'balls', his dick jumped.
“Always.”
“I don't have a mark on me, but I am definitely not good!” Dillon glared at him and smacked the center console to emphasize her anger.
“We were just in a high-speed chase; we got shot at! I'm freaked out, I'm pissed off, and I'm more turned on than I've ever been in my life. What the hell was that? Who the hell was that?”
Dillon went on to rant a little more, and Nasa understood it was a byproduct of the adrenaline. He used his heel to hit the bar under his seat, shoving it back even as he flipped up the center console, unbuckled her belt, and yanked her into his lap.
For two people of above average height, it wasn't an ideal fit, but the confined space didn't deter Nasa one bit.
They clashed in an aggressive kiss that poured liquid fire through his bloodstream, and he'd just barely got a good grip on her ass, feeling the nose of her Colt low on her right hip, when someone tapped on the window.
Dillon moved so fast Nasa didn't have time to react. She was up, pressing him hard against the seat to keep him down, gun once again in hand aimed at the driver's side window.
Following her mother's example, Elka went nuts, snarling and barking to further intimidate Raid, who stood on the opposite side of the glass with his hands up and a look of astonishment on his face.