Slowly, she descended from the precipice, aftershocks still ebbing through her muscles. Time was irrelevant as her scattered thoughts slowly coalesced. One glittered on the edge of her awareness, full of hope. Despite the everyday death that surrounded them, with Hardy, she might finally be able to start living.
29
Hardy pulled in a shuddering breath. The need to possess Georgina stormed though him, his blood boiled from her naked skin against his. He waited as her breathing slowed, stroking her flank, the smooth lines of her ribcage, unable to stop his hands from their ceaseless exploration of her skin. His cock was lodged against the curve of her ass as he savored the softness of her skin. More. He wanted so much more.
She twisted to face him, her eyes dark and a little unfocussed. “Your turn. Let me return the favor.”
He stroked her cheek and pulled her to him, burying his face in the cloud of her hair, her racing pulse against his cheek. “Later.” He kissed her. Despite the lust consuming him, he wanted to wait. “When I’m finally inside you, I want to take my time. Hours and hours of time to enjoy the feeling of you stretched out beneath me.”
She inhaled sharply, her body tensing at his words.
“Hardy—”
Fuck, if he didn’t love the way she said his name.
“Hush.” He pressed a finger to her lips, breathing in the scent of her arousal, not wanting to shatter the moment.
He could lie here forever, despite his cock straining under the soft sweep of her ass. She fitted perfectly in his arms and for now, that was all he wanted. All he needed. Georgina was what he’d been waiting for.
He leaned forward, clasping the back of her neck and pulled her lips to his, needing the connection with her. He wanted to press his body into hers till they melded into one and blocked out the bitter cold, and hunger, and death. She melted the ice in his DNA, and for the first time since he could remember, his heart thawed.
Georgina broke the kiss, her lips parted and swollen, her eyes dark with desire. For him.
He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “You warmed up now?”
“Yes.”
Content, Hardy pulled her head back to the crook of his neck and kissed her bare shoulder. “This is what I want right now. You in my arms.”
The fire crackled, lulling him as she relaxed against him. He breathed in her unique scent. Not making it to Brackla was a possibility. England wasn’t safe anymore.
What if he lost her, before he’d even had the chance to get to know her? Emotion surged through him, real and raw, awakening all the vulnerabilities he’d blocked out of his life, fearful that the history of his parents would repeat itself. He hugged her tighter. He was a fighter. Always had been. So, he would protect her with his life. Simple as that.
“Where do we go from here?"
Her breath warmed the back of his hand.
He wanted to be honest. “I don’t know. Maybe we shouldn’t overthink it.”
Her head bobbed in acknowledgment under his chin. “I still don’t know your first name.”
It had been so long since anyone used his first name or even asked what it was. “Ryan.”
“Ryan.” She rolled the syllables along her tongue as if tasting something delicious. “I like it. Ryan. I might need to practice though, you’re still Hardy up here.” She tapped the side of her head, a tiny smile on her beautiful face.
“I think that’s enough.” He brushed under her arm with one finger and she squirmed, giggling. The sound was clean and pure to his ears.
Her expression shifted into something more serious. “Do you have any family still alive?”
His muscles braced at the question. His memories were rusty with time. He’d worked hard to let them fall away, even though they’d never fully left him.
“I don’t think so. How crazy dies that sound? They split when I was in my teens but they both still lived in Belfast when it was hit by one of the biggest meteorites. I assume they both died. The Chittrix razed the city to the ground in days, even while the rest of the UK was still fighting.”
Georgina grabbed his hand, her fingers stroking the underside of his wrist. “I’m sorry.”
He concentrated on the flames. “You shouldn’t be. They were both dead long before the Chittrix killed them.”
He was glad his face was hidden in the shadows. That she couldn’t see how his parents had shaped him. He took a deep breath, not wanting to think about the forever yelling, flying crockery, the broken furniture, knives embedded in the wall. Hiding under his bed, clutching his bear. Fuck.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. She might as well know all of it. At least then she could decide for herself if she wanted anything more to do with him. “I fought, even before the invasion. Cage fighting. As far back as I can remember, home was violence and screaming, my parents drinking too much. My Dad was generous with his fists. So I took up boxing to get out the house.”
A band of tension looped around his forehead as long forgotten memories stirred. “One thing led to another. I was a good fighter. At least then, I was getting paid to get hit.”
“They took your childhood.” A tremor tainted her voice. “But, it made you strong.” She paused. “I don’t mean just physically, well of course you are.” She palmed his scarred knuckles with cool fingers. “I mean inside. You’re steel. I see the way the others respect you, drawing on your strength.”
Her words settled in him. No one had ever framed it like that before. That his past had shaped him, into something distinct and positive. A man with strength. He’d only ever considered his weaknesses before. His lack of knowledge, his complete inability to love because he’d never experienced it or been shown how. “Maybe.”
He smoothed her hair, marveling at its silkiness. Everything in his world was hard and polished. Utilitarian.
“What does Acushla mean?”
Ah. He smiled to himself and kissed her cheek. “Sweetheart or darling.”
She wriggled. “Sounds better in Irish.”
He chuckled. “Well, of course.”
“How did you find the others?” Georgina stroked his forehead. Her were limbs hot and languid against his as she slid her toes up his calf and across the back of his knee.
Contentment loosened his tongue. “I was in London, for a fight when I ran into Garrick and that crazy fuck Foster. The rest, well…”
“They’re your new family.”
More than that. The family he’d never had. “Yes.”
“I see it. The way you put yourself on the line for Foster. Honorable.”
“No one’s ever described me as honorable before.”
“Well, they should. You are.” Light from the fire danced in her eyes. “Look at all the people you’ve helped,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Natalie and I would be dead if it weren’t for you. Mabe. Foster too.” She grinned. “Even Barney.”
“Like you looking out for your sister, Janie?”
She lifted a shoulder. “There was never really any choice. She was my sister. I stepped up when I was needed.”
“Like you’re doing now?”
“The freaks,” she caught herself. “The men who took her. We were friendly with them at first. We were actually part of their group. They offered us protection in exchange for domestic activities. We were fine for a few months. Then some of them decided they were going to leave, the Chittrix were depleting our numbers, killing men on a weekly basis. That’s when they decided to take their chances in Scotland. Well, one of the western islands. When I got flu, they wouldn’t wait.” She lapsed into silence.
He stroked her neck as she gathered herself, the muscles in her throat working.
“They took Janie. Against her will.”
Her head dipped as if a memory were playing out across her mind. Something hard coalesced in his belly as she spoke. A reaction to what the men had done to Janie but also that they had put Georgina through this pain and anguish.
She touched the rou
gh beard on his cheek. “You should smile more. It suits you.” She was changing the subject, but he let her. He understood what it was like to face the raw hurt in your heart.
There was a trace of humor in her voice. “It makes me happy when you smile, I like it…and I like you.”
Time paused as he processed her words. Then sensation flooded him as she kissed him hard. She pulled him closer and his heart accelerated into a fierce blur that made his head spin. He couldn’t get enough of her. He never wanted it to end.
At last, she broke the kiss, her fingers tracking the line of his jaw, her lips still only inches from his, their breath intermingling. Her eyes were wide, drinking him in. No one had ever looked at him like that before. It made his pulse soar.
Just like that. She’d captured his heart forever.
30
Georgina woke early. Dawn broke with a hush of rain. No birdsong, but the light was still new and fresh. She was wrapped in Hardy’s arms. The deep steady beat of his heart thumped under her fingertips. She studied the intricate ink that flowed down his powerfully cut arms to his wrists. She’d never paid tattoos on other people much attention, but Hardy’s drew her, the complexity of them matching the power of the man they clothed.
She touched the face of his watch. Analogue. The hands ticked, marking off the remaining seconds before the rude sting of reality would dissolve the morning stillness and she’d have to get up and return to the real world of Chittrix, dirty clothes, and no transport.
She wiped sleep from her eyes. She was sticky and hot. She rolled out from under the blanket pulling Hardy’s t-shirt over her head. It fitted like a dress, brushing the tops of her thighs. She padded through to the kitchen, searching for the storeroom he’d mentioned.
The door was open. The heavy stainless steel lock was cold to touch. She stuck her head through the gap and grinned.
Perfect.
31
Something hard scraped and rattled against the window. Hardy’s eyes snapped open.
His arms were empty.
His sleep-addled brain roused immediately and he reached for his SIG, tucked under the armchair, where he’d stowed it last night
He scanned the room. Where was she? He kept his voice low. “Georgina?”
A branch bounced against the glass and the scraping sound filled the room again.
Trees. He flexed his finger away from the trigger. Crap. But where was she? Rain pattered and smeared greasy dirt on the window, casting shadows on his skin as pulled on his boxers. There was a soft noise coming from the kitchen. His gun secure in both hands, he headed that way.
The floor was freezing and the morning air chilled his sleep-warm skin. He halted on the kitchen threshold, the snub noise of his gun lowering to the floor.
On the far aide of the room Georgina was stripped naked. On the floor beside her were two empty five-gallon containers from a water cooler. She’d emptied the water into two wide ceramic bowls. Bubbles floated on one. The other was clear and she was wringing out a small cloth to rinse her skin. The clean scent of soap filled the air.
She’d propped one leg up on a small wooden stool. Water splashed as she twisted the fabric before running the cloth up her leg, from the inside of her ankle to the top of her thighs. Hardy licked his lips, at the soft shushing noise. The sound blazed straight to his groin. His semi erect cock hardened, jacking his morning erection from hello to Goddamn.
Unaware of his observation, she bent and wiped her other leg, pausing with the washcloth between her legs, her eyelids fluttering closed as if remembering a memory. Of last night? His pulse lurched as he crossed the room in a few swift strides.
When he reached her, her eyes opened. He focused on her plush lower lip, wanting to snag it between his teeth.
“I was getting cleaned up.” Her voice was husky. She dropped the cloth in the bowl. Swirled it slowly. Her gaze dropped to the bulge in his underwear. Darkness filled her eyes when she looked back up at him. “I’ve finished. I feel better. Like a person again.”
She pointed to a spot on the floor right in front of her. “Come here.”
Hardy did as he was told, stepping to the exact point on the floor. He placed the SIG on the sink drainer.
She straightened and pulled his t-shirt on, concealing the pebbled skin of her breasts and the curve of her belly. Her nipples were prominent though the thin fabric, erect even though he had yet to touch them.
She ran her hands across the flat of his abdomen. “These are so beautiful,” she purred, tracing the ink that curved round his pectoral muscles, while her other hand grazed lower, cupping the outline of his erection.
“Come here.” His voice was hoarse.
He dragged her into his arms, his mouth crashing against hers in a crushing kiss. Georgina reached down, sliding her hand under the fabric of his boxers, obliterating the last of his self-control. She grasped the swollen head of his cock, slicking her fingers with the moisture that gathered there, before stroking her hands down the length of him. He groaned into the wet heat of her mouth as her cool fingers circled him in a firm grip.
Without warning, she broke the kiss and released him. She tilted her head. A cheeky grin lit her face. “Let me wash you.”
She hooked a wooden chair from under one of the counters and swung it in front of him. “Sit.”
She motioned for him to remove his underwear.
Hardy kicked them off and a low hiss escaped from between her teeth. Her tongue darted, pink and small, and she arced an eyebrow at him.
His heart thudded hot and heavy in his chest. This was so out his comfort zone but he never wanted it to stop.
Georgina bent and rubbed a bar of white soap on the cloth. She straightened and reaching up, rubbed the cloth onto his shoulders. The water was chilled but the gentle rasp of the fabric against his skin was glorious. He dropped his head as she worked it across his neck, back and then around to his chest and abdomen. Stepping between his thighs, her breath tickled a delicious tease on his skin as she bent lower.
“Okay?” her voice was surprisingly steadfast.
It was all Hardy could do to nod. The sweet sensation of cold cloth contrasted to the scorching heat of her hands sucked away any ability to form coherent speech. Her insistent touch woke need in every inch of his skin.
She knelt to clean his legs. As she worked she held his gaze, her eyes dilated with desire. For him. No woman had ever looked at him like that and it damn well took his breath away.
“I’m going to clean the suds off now.” Taking a second cloth and rinsing it in the bowl of clean water, she buffed the soap from his skin. She worked in slow steady circles, not missing an inch, methodically progressing from the back of his neck to the tops of his feet.
Every inch of his skin tingled.
Finally she rocked back onto her heels. Her mouth crooked. “Nearly all done.” She dipped the cloth in the water once more, then covered his cock with the wet cloth, stroking him clean with confident movements. Cool air burned against his damp skin. Hardy tipped his head back, submitting to the electricity that she drove through his body with every glancing touch.
“Enough.” He surged to his feet, and grasped her free wrist. Then he walked her backwards till her back hit the faded tile wall, her hand still gripping the girth of his cock.
Caging her in with his body, he kissed her, devouring her, driving his hands through her hair, holding her captive. The rise and fall of her breathing increased, the tension in her muscles singing higher. He couldn’t get enough of this woman.
When he broke the kiss, he paused, savoring the sight of her, her hair dark from the water, her lips ripe from his kisses.
He growled. “So damn beautiful.” He skirted the line of her throat, nipping and tugging with his teeth at tendons just under the skin. She moaned and rocked against him, stroking his cock in unrelenting firm movements. Ferocious want rushed through his bloodstream, hammering more blood into his engorged cock.
Later, he promised
himself, he’d stretch her out on clean sheets. Take his time to kiss and taste every inch of her delectable skin. But for now, he pushed her t-shirt up, exposing her naked breasts. He flicked, nibbled and sucked. Learning what she liked from her cries and moans. He drank her in, her creamy skin, unblemished by the devastation of the world. Here, at least for a short while, everything was as it should be.
And still she worked his cock with her hands, barely giving him time to catch his breath. Her grip was firm and unrelenting. Hot pressure coiled low in his back, spreading in hot flare. His release was building, circling at the base of his spine, his hips curving up toward her touch.
With his knee, he pressed her thighs apart, enjoying the hitch in her breathing as his leg filled the space between her legs. He gritted his teeth, wanting to slide his cock between the softness of her thighs and lose himself in her slick folds. He ground his leg upwards and her mouth fell open.
“Hardy.” His name fell from her lips in a breathy gasp.
She slid her hand over the tip of his cock, her fingertip skimming across the slit and swollen head. His hips bucked at the exquisite tease, his breathing becoming more labored.
The need to touch her, to feel her arousal too, roared through him. He released the pressure from his thigh and cupped the wet heat of her sex. She arched against him, moaning, as he worked a finger through her curls, and then inside her. He slid a second finger into her wet heat, stretching her, moving his thumb till he found the small nub of her clit. Slowly, he circled the tiny bud in slippery movements.
“God.” Her head rapped back against the wall. Her flushed face, the sheen on her lips, dusky nipples calling for his touch. He needed more, needed her to know what she did to him.
She shifted, hooked one heel at the back of his knee, pulling his body closer and a shudder pulsed through her as she gripped him tighter, her own climax close. The need for release was overwhelming, but he wanted to watch her. See her come first. Watch the flush rise across her breasts. He pinched her clit in a gentle squeeze and she cried out, shaking as her orgasm swept through her.
Hardy Page 13