Skin Dive

by Ava Gray

  She smiled down at him dreamily. “Oh, look. You finally got me riding your pole.”

  God only knew why that did it, but the fact that she could joke with him after coming so hard? It unraveled him. She had always, always been love and light and laughter. Always. With a groan, he rolled her beneath him, caught her thighs in his hands, and went for it with hard, fast thrusts. She was sweet and soft beneath him, limp with satiation, but by the time he started getting close, she perked, as if she might go a second time.

  “Think I can get you there again?” He leaned down and nuzzled her skin, every bit he could reach. “God, you feel good.”

  “Maybe,” she answered, breathless. “Keep at it.”

  That sounded like a challenge, so he reined himself back and ignored the pressure building in his balls. No orgasm yet. Thankfully, the pain in his stomach helped to manage that. He watched her face and adjusted his pace according to her gasps and moans. She liked a slight angle and fast, long pushes. Taye gave her what she needed and Gillie rewarded him by screaming and clawing his back. It was like he hit the sweet spot, nudging her up a notch. Her intensity sparked his own and he came so hard his vision went spotty. Pleasure blasted him until he fell, lax and brainless, his cock throbbing inside her even as he softened. God, he wanted to do the dirtiest things to her, even now.

  “I have five minutes,” she breathed. “Gonna be the fastest shower ever. Wash my back?”

  He did—and it was tender and lovely. The urge to cry rose in him again, but he refused, and impending loss froze behind his eyes. Quite apart from pain management, he hadn’t wanted to miss a moment of holding her the night before, so he hadn’t drifted off. Now exhaustion would make him careless if he didn’t take steps.

  I don’t want her to know. Let these be our perfect, idyllic days.

  And once she left, he took the pills that let him sleep.

  Taye was . . . lovely. The past week had been everything she could have dreamed. He was different in some indefinable way, as if he had resolved some inner conflict. Before, he always had so much rage and turmoil that she worried about him, but it seemed working with Mockingbird had helped him achieve inner peace.

  It was helping her, too. No longer did she fear and loathe her healing. If she chose to use it, the process didn’t offer the same soul-killing agony. Sure, there was physical pain, but never the sense of emotional violation that accompanied the sessions in Rowan’s lab. Since Gillie wanted to help people, she could only consider that a good thing. Now, she dared to think ahead to that homeless shelter, where she could treat the walls with tungsten powder and quietly save lives in addition to helping to heal minds—quite a big fucking dream for someone who had once only wanted to see the sun again before she died.

  But these days, she had hope. Though she’d suffered, it seemed like she had finally come out on the bright end of the tunnel. She loved Taye so much it felt like a star inside her, glowing constantly with heat and need. And he loved her back, no doubting that.

  At first, it was a little strange having him around all the time, but she liked the everyday details. Somehow, doing dishes with him made everything seem more real. People might fantasize about great sex, cuddling, or talking, but she was sure they didn’t dream about scraping plates and sharing a sink. Therefore, he was here. He was hers.

  Even with him present, dreams still haunted her. Sometimes she dreamt of Rowan and the lab; more often, these days, she dreamed the death of the man at the hospital. Nobody had ever pointed a finger her way, but there was no doubt she’d caused it with a single, terror-charged touch. Adrenaline had to be the chief difference, or this would’ve happened down below, too. But there, she had never been frightened in quite so visceral a fashion.

  Mostly, she thought she had a handle on it, but on their eighth night together, he woke her from sleep with worry shining from his face. Her own cheeks were wet with tears.

  “Shh,” he said. “You’re safe.”

  Guess you can’t be cool about killing someone. She clutched him and tucked her face against his chest. Christ, he’s thin. He stroked her back for a few moments, soothing her, until her breathing slowed.

  “You want to tell me about it?”

  Not really. But she didn’t keep secrets from him either. So she eased back onto her side; it would be easier in the dark, at least. Gillie took a deep breath and relayed the events in a monotone. Some part of her wondered if this would change how he saw her.

  “I’m guessing this is a new thing,” he said, once she’d finished.

  “Yeah.”

  “Gillie, you were scared for your life. I’d guess a defense mechanism kicked in. It’s not your fault . . . he had a knife to your throat. In fact, I kinda want to kill him all over again for that.”

  “But he was nuts. He couldn’t help himself.”

  “That doesn’t mean he gets to threaten you.”

  “He didn’t deserve to die for it.”

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself. You didn’t ask for this. If anything, it can be attributed to the Foundation, who first gave you that experimental injection.”

  “Yeah. My parents never had much money. They were good people, but dreamers, you know? Their master plan for future security was to win the lottery.”

  “At least you know that much about them.”

  She exhaled unsteadily and tucked her head against his shoulder. “I guess it’s bothering me, too, because there were no consequences. Normal people can’t see how I had anything to do with his collapse.”

  “You’re punishing yourself,” he said softly. “Isn’t that worse?”

  “Not worse than prison, from what I understand.”

  “I can see you’re torn up, but for me, it’s a relief that you can defend yourself when I’m not around.”

  That surprised a shaky laugh from her. “Yeah, anyone who grabs me, intending harm, is in for an awful surprise.”

  He smiled at her. “Before, I thought you were too good, too sweet, too . . . everything. But now you seem a little more like me.”

  “So you like my dark side?”

  “I adore every side of you, love.”

  When he drew her back into his arms, she expected that line served as a precursor to sex, but instead he tucked her against him tenderly and rested his head on her hair. She thought she was too upset to sleep, but somehow, the heat and security of his presence made it possible for her to let go, and this time, the dreams didn’t come.

  On their fourteenth day together—and she tried not to panic over the way they speeded away—Gillie dragged Taye to her favorite bar. While he might prefer quiet evenings, she had spent enough of those to enjoy crowds, noise, and excitement. She liked to dance; she enjoyed the music, and on Thursday, she even sang. By a stroke of good luck, she could combine her passions: Taye, public spectacle, and karaoke.

  In four days, he was leaving.

  “Tell me you packed something nice,” she said, grinning down at him.

  Taye set down the paperback and stretched like a sleepy tiger. He really was reading the demon books she’d recommended, though they tended to spike his sex drive—not that it needed any boosting. She was worried about him, all told; he didn’t eat much, and he seemed to grow thinner by the day. Soon he would pass from lean muscle to dangerous emaciation.

  “Define nice.”

  “Something besides motorcycle boots and white T-shirts.”

  “Then, nope. I can buy something, though, if you tell me the occasion.”

  “We’re going dancing.”

  To her surprise, he didn’t protest. Maybe his loss of memory also wiped any aversion he might’ve felt.

  “What’s the venue? Upscale, downtown, hip-hop?”

  “It’s a place in Old Town, casual, but fun. You don’t need to dress up much. Jeans with a nice shirt and a decent pair of shoes should do it . . . I don’t think you can move in those boots.”

  He grinned. “I bet you’re right. Wonder if I have any vertical m
oves.”

  “We’re gonna find out.” God, she appreciated his willingness to try.

  While she got ready, he went shopping. Her lack of a car didn’t bother him, though she had dated enough, even casually, to realize he was going above and beyond. A few college guys complained because she didn’t have a car and couldn’t do her share of the driving.

  She put on a dark blue mini-dress, Chinese-inspired with silver embroidery and mandarin collar. It was sleeveless and deceptively simple, but with long blue silk opera gloves, a pair of matching heels and heavier eye makeup, she felt transformed from her everyday self. She knew a moment of regret that she couldn’t go sleeveless without gloves, but she had to cover the needle marks. Generally, she didn’t dress up much—college didn’t require it—but Taye had never seen her best. It meant a lot that he wanted her, no matter what, but sometimes a woman needed to wow the man in her life. By the time he got back, it was dark, and she was ready; he stopped in the middle of her living room, his sea green gaze sweeping from head to toe and back again.

  “Damn,” he said.

  Gillie had the notion she had stolen his bigger words, so she took that as a compliment. She spun slowly, so he got the full effect, and his face went dreamy with desire. Lovely, how he didn’t attempt to hide it anymore.

  “I suppose you need to go change.” She tilted her head at the bag in his hand.

  “Oh, right.”

  When he returned, he wore his jeans, new leather shoes, along with a blue and gray striped shirt, untucked but with his model-thin build, it said casual instead of sloppy. The narrow cut made him look lean and dangerous; his longish, tousled hair and the scruff he almost never shaved added to the impression. Gillie found him beautiful in the way of crystals encountered unexpectedly in a dark cave, a shock to quicken the heart.

  “It’s almost like you knew what I was wearing.”

  “My imagination’s not that good, love.”

  They took the bus downtown and walked the rest of the way to the club. She liked the vibe and the DJs. There was a rooftop view, and people milled around outside since it was a pretty night. But it wasn’t the sort of place where you had to impress a bouncer to get in, just a fun spot to cut loose, drink, and dance . . . things she had never been allowed to do before. Sometimes she felt like a confusing twist of nesting instincts and strangled youth.

  “I’m pretty sure I can dance,” Taye said, as they went into the club.

  “Yeah?”

  “I seem to remember that. Nothing specific, but I think maybe I used to be a party boy.”

  She liked imagining a time where he was happy, even if he couldn’t recollect it. “Let’s find out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The floor had plenty of room, so as “Tik Tok” came on—a dance favorite among the college crowd—she led him out. She noticed the other guys danced in more or less the same shuffling style, nothing flamboyant, nothing unexpected. She could tell by their expressions they were out to please their girlfriends or in hope of getting laid, with possibly some intertwining of the two. With Taye, it was different; the music caught him, and he did have some vertical moves—smooth, fluid spins, graceful footwork straight out of a music video. Delighted, Gillie found herself hard pressed to keep up with him. He had no shame or inhibitions; he danced up against her, practically sexing her up in front of the whole bar. But he wasn’t out for attention. Instead, he focused wholly on her. She caught other women checking him out, probably wondering where she’d found a man like him.

  You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, ladies.

  When the song ended, she stood breathless and smiling. “You sure you weren’t in a boy band during your lost years?”

  He grinned back. “Hm. Should we check the Where Are They Now files in case someone’s missing me?”

  “No,” she said. “I’d rather keep you all to myself.”

  It was a magical night, and the only downside came when she ran into Brandon. Beer in hand, he registered the intimacy between “Steve” and herself in one glance; though he wasn’t studying to be a cryptologist, he could decode body language just fine. Fortunately, he didn’t linger, instead heading to the bar with his buddies.

  “He’s jealous,” Taye whispered into her ear. “All that time he spent playing the good ‘friend’ and I’m the one in your bed. Life’s not fair.”

  She smiled up at him. The music had slowed, so he had both arms around her waist, hers about his neck, and they were shamelessly dirty dancing, old-school style. “But sometimes it works out exactly as it should.”

  Sorrow flickered in his face, a shadow she’d seen before but couldn’t identify. “Sometimes. Sometimes it does.”

  “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  Please. I deserve your secrets. You can trust me . . . I ought to have proven that by now.

  “Just that you’re the prettiest one here.” By his avid expression, he believed it. Not empty words, and she took that desire in lieu of full confession.

  Ah well. I’ll find out in time.

  Before they left, she had to get onstage. She studied the music selection and gauged the mood of her drunken audience carefully before she made her choice. Taye winced and laughed all the way through her over-the-top rendition of Peter Cetera’s “You’re the Inspiration.” At one point, he covered his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see her emotive crooning. Hey, if you can’t sing, at least you can have fun.

  When she finished, she pointed at him and said, “Your turn.”

  He shook his head as he lifted her down from the small stage. “I worship you, Gillie-love. I do. I’d do anything for you. But not that. Never. Ever.”

  He startled a laugh from her. “So karaoke is where you draw the line?”

  “Absolutely. Be happy I can dance.”

  “Oh, I am.”

  “Can we go home, so I can show you how much I enjoy that up-and-down shimmy thing? Particularly when you do it right up against me.”

  “I can’t think of anything I want more.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Taye silently blessed the pills that let him get through the night. Without them, there was no way he could’ve danced as he had—and that would’ve been a crying shame, considering how happy it made Gillie. But it put questions in his head about where he’d learned those moves. Maybe I was a club kid, before crazy got the best of me. He liked the relative innocence of it.

  They walked to the bus stop—so ridiculous to travel that way—but its simplicity suited her, and who was he to complain? Starry night, spring—Taye tried to memorize everything: the way the wind smelled, the sound of distant laughter, and the click of her heels on the sidewalk. She leaned back against him as they waited, and on the ride home, she rested her head on his chest.

  He held her hand as they went through the apartment complex gates and followed the sidewalk to her apartment. Mockingbird had given him three weeks, and he had spent three of those days waiting for the all-clear. That left him eighteen, and two weeks had already flown by.

  On Monday, he had to go. Only four days left. A devil lived in his head, counting down the time as if it were a doomsday clock—and maybe that was an apt analogy. Because his world would end when he left her.

  Not thinking of that tonight. Go away, death. Go bother someone else.

  The dress fit her like a second skin, both exquisite and erotic. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way other men looked at her. Hell, most of them wished they were him tonight. She led the way up the stairs, her hips swaying like a sexy metronome. In front of the apartment, she fumbled with the keys; she’d drunk more than he had.

  Gillie smelled of apples when he leaned down to kiss the nape of her neck. As always, she reminded him of springtime, where everything was bright and green, burgeoning with potential, and she left him raw with her emotional honesty. He followed her in the door, admiring what she’d built here, wishing he could be a permanent part of it.

  This apartment w
as the first home she had ever known, and it showed. He could tell how much care had gone into selecting the walnut brown furniture and the contrasting blond oak tables. Each abstract picture, every patterned throw pillow said something about her personality. As a whole, it was bright but comfortable, inviting but beautiful, completely Gillie. Remembering how they’d squatted in squalor, he felt a rush of shame that he’d denied her this.

  If I’d said yes to MB sooner, she could’ve had this sooner. Of course you’d be dead by now. Always a trade-off.

  “Did you have fun tonight?” she asked, as if it could be doubted.

  He didn’t remember ever having fun; it wasn’t part of his lexicon. Sometimes fighting beside Hawk was satisfying, but it wasn’t fun, at least not in the way she meant. Not light and happy and carefree. Fuck, nothing was; it couldn’t be.

  “Yeah. It was amazing.”

  You were amazing. He loved that she didn’t care if she could sing . . . she couldn’t. Still, she gave everything to that stupid song and had a blast doing it. Life with Gillie Flynn would be fun as hell, and he ached that he wouldn’t see her old and gray, rocking a walker and maybe an artificial hip.

  “I guess we have to go to bed and have sex now.” She tried for a mournful tone, but the sparkle in her eyes gave away the teasing.

  Christ, she’s fantastic.

  “I’m afraid so. I did the dishes today, and as I recall, we made a deal.”

  “It’s fine. I can fake it again.”

  At that, he grabbed her with a growl and wound his arms about her waist, lifting her for a long, delicious kiss. “You’re a wicked woman.”

  “I’m glad you finally noticed.”

  “Bed?” It wasn’t really a question, but he felt obligated to check as he carried her toward the bedroom.

  “Please.”

  That night, he took his time with her; hours kissing and nuzzling, teasing her breasts and making her writhe. She came three times before he fucked her, and she wept as she went for the fourth, her pussy pulsing sweetly on his cock. The drugs started to wear off then, making it hard for him to thrust without pain, and she saw it.