by Rose O'Brien
Across the fire, Jen shivered hard and put her palms toward the flames. He added a little of his own energy to the fire, pumping it up beyond what their meager fuel of broken furniture could provide. He was exhausted and even that small effort cost him, but it was worth it to see her relax a little as the extra warmth wrapped itself around her.
“Cold?” he asked her.
“Temperature’s dropping,” she said. “And someone didn’t give me a chance to pack for the weather.”
Her tone was playful, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth and the light of the fire dancing in her eyes.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he said, meeting her eyes, his voice low and soft. She looked at the sleeping bags and then anywhere but his face. It might be his imagination or a trick of the firelight, but her cheeks looked ever so slightly pink.
Rising to his feet, he moved to the sleeping bags. Didn’t take more than a moment to unroll the black nylon bedding. They wouldn’t offer much padding against the hard floor, or much insulation against the cold, but he could make it work.
Working the zippers and the elastic straps that held the bags when they were rolled up, he was able to maneuver the two bags into a configuration that would fit them both comfortably and keep them warm.
Jen eyed the setup, not saying anything, but her little pink tongue licked her bottom lip, and he almost groaned. Her gaze caught his for a split second before she slid her eyes away and started rummaging in her pack again. Coming up with her toothbrush, a water bottle, and toothpaste, she rose.
“I’m going to brush my teeth,” she said, her words coming a little faster than usual. She stood by the rough gap in the exterior wall where the SUV was parked, little swishing noises reaching his ears over the crackle of the fire.
When she came back, she stowed her things in her pack and looked at the sleeping bags again, giving the setup serious side-eye.
“Kick your boots off and climb in,” he said.
She hesitated, but then started pulling at the laces of her boots. While he finished with his own hygiene routine, he watched her climb in and scoot to one side of the pallet he’d made. Fully clothed. Her eyes kept watching him and darting away and she thought he didn’t notice.
Sitting beside the fire, he pulled off his own boots and shucked his fatigue pants. In his T-shirt and boxers, he moved slowly, but as casually as possible to the nest of sleeping bags, laying his pistols carefully within reach.
He continued to move slowly as he slid in, facing her, careful not to spook her. Her shoulders were curled down and her knees were curled up between their bodies.
“Those khakis are going to get uncomfortable on this hard floor,” he told her.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to take them off,” she said, not meeting his eyes.
He gave her a hard look.
“Are you nervous?” he asked, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
“No,” she responded too quickly, her tone defensive.
“Look, if you’re worried about shenanigans, I promise to keep my hands to myself,” he said, bringing his hands up between them and showing her his palms. “Honestly, this is about warmth and safety. I’m worried you’ll get too cold by yourself, and it’s easier to protect you if you’re right next to me if something sneaks up on us.”
She stayed silent for a moment, staring at his chest, before she shifted around and he heard the rustle of fabric. The khakis hit the floor by their feet.
Her bare leg brushed against his, and the breath froze in his lungs. It was going to be a long, hard night. So very, very hard.
***
Big, he was just so god damned big. As Theron settled next to her in the nest of sleeping bags, she watched with fascination as the muscles in his arms and chest bunched. His movements were slow and deliberate and that was about her, she knew, about making her comfortable. Somewhere along the way, and she wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, her comfort had become important to him.
And his to her.
“I forgot to ask,” she said softly. “How’s the shoulder?”
He was lying on his right side on his uninjured shoulder. He moved the left in a circle, first backward then forward.
“Hundred percent as far as I can tell,” he said.
“Most people would need to have it in a sling for a few weeks,” she told him.
His face was mostly in shadow, his back to the fire, but she caught the flash of his white teeth as he smiled.
“I’m not most people,” he said, his voice low. “Mages heal lightning quick, and fire mages have a metabolism like a furnace. Put the two together, and you can almost watch our skin knit back together when it’s cut.”
Her eyes went to the cut he’d had on his forehead from where it made contact with the window when that truck had plowed into them. It was just a pink line now. Those cuts on her ribs had barely scabbed over in the same amount of time.
“I wish I healed like that,” she said, her hand going to the bandage over her ribs.
“Oh, hey, we never checked that,” he said. As he sat up, his own hands went to her bandage, his fingers brushing hers aside.
“Let me look,” he said, pushing aside her T-shirt and peeling the surgical tape away from her skin at one corner. She had no time to protest and his hands were gentle, so she really had nothing to complain about.
Shifting so the firelight hit her skin, he looked down at her side. That blonde hair of his fell over his forehead and the firelight danced against the skin of his throat. He was a strikingly handsome man, she thought.
Her gaze fell on his mouth, and the memory of that kiss invaded her thoughts again. Her breath came faster and her heart rate kicked up a notch. What would happen if she sat up, put her palm against that square jaw and put her mouth to his?
Theron’s voice snapped her back to reality.
“Does that hurt?” He asked, his fingers lightly pressing the skin around her gashes.
“No,” she said quickly, hoping that her thoughts didn’t show in her voice.
“No bleeding, no sign of infection,” he said. “I don’t think we need to redress it tonight, but let’s leave the bandage on for now. I don’t want you knocking off those butterfly strips.”
She nodded as he tugged her T-shirt back into place. As he laid back down, folding his left arm behind his head, his pecs strained at the material of his T-shirt. He stared at the cracked ceiling of their bombed out little shelter, his face and body silhouetted against the fire. The urge to touch him made her fingers tremble and her thighs squeeze together.
He turned his head to look at her and his low voice reached out to her.
“I’m going to stay up tonight, but can I ask you something?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice to sound anything other than breathy, not even thinking about his request. She’d give him just about anything in this moment.
He was silent for several seconds and anxiety began to build in the space around her lungs.
“Would you...would you sleep on my shoulder, like you did last night?”
Biting her lip, she closed her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to ask him for that, but she’d been thinking about it ever since they’d made camp.
Sleeping in his arms the night before had felt good. Really good. Like maybe the best thing she’d felt in, oh god, she didn’t remember when.
For a moment, she examined her reaction to his request. Somewhere between here and Baghdad, she had ceased to be his captive and had become his partner. Her physical attraction to him had an obvious source. But this connection, each craving the touch and comfort of the other, the way he longed to see her smile and laugh, that was something else.
Stockholm syndrome? No, they’d left the risk of that behind a long time ago. They liked each other. She genuinely wanted him. And underneath that was a feeling she wasn’t nearly ready to examine yet. Maybe when they were safe behind the walls of his fortress, they could figure out what this spar
k was.
She nodded and inched toward him, ducking under his right arm, her breasts pressing into the solid wall of his chest. Her right hand rested just over his heart, its strong and steady rhythm reassuring under her fingers. Her head was pillowed on his shoulder, her black braid snaking over its bulk.
“Try to get some sleep, okay? The toughest part of this trip is ahead of us tomorrow,” he told her.
She was far too keyed up to sleep, and judging by the tension in his big body, so was he.
Jen closed her eyes, but locked in the darkness of her own skull, all she could think about was the way he felt against her. Her bare leg brushed his again and the fine hairs tickled her skin. She was keenly aware of how soft the fabric of his T-shirt was beneath her fingertips, his incredible warmth radiating through her skin and sinking into her tired muscles.
She was also very aware that her button down shirt, which was open over her T-shirt, was bunching uncomfortably under her.
Awareness continued to ratchet up as she squirmed and tried to get comfortable, her every movement brushing against him some way. Finally, when she couldn’t stand it anymore, her eyes snapped open.
And found him staring at her.
Those indigo eyes were almost glowing, like the blue flame of a blow torch. Her lips parted on a gasp, but her breath caught in her throat.
Jen was caught. Trapped. Ensnared by those eyes. Her heart pounding, her hand snaked up between them and touched his face, as she had longed to do.
The shimmering stubble on his jaw rasped against her palm, a delicious friction on her hyper-sensitive skin. He turned into her touch, pressing against her palm like he craved the contact.
His eyes closed and he let out a long breath, his lips parting gently.
He was beautiful. And she wanted him, more than she’d wanted anything in a long time.
She stroked her thumb just under his cheekbone.
“Oh, gods, Jen,” he groaned softly. A slight, almost imperceptible tremor moved through his enormous body.
As he rolled onto his side, his other arm came around her and brought her fully against him. His erection pressed into her hip, and a shock zinged through her body, ricocheting along her nerves until it settled between her legs.
For a beat, she waited for him to kiss her, as he had in the SUV. She was hungry for the feel of his mouth on her again. When he made no move toward her, she leaned in and brought her mouth to his.
His lips were warm, and as she licked his bottom lip, the rumble of his groan reverberated through her. As his lips parted, she seized the opportunity and slid her tongue into him. He tasted like toothpaste and male.
He groaned again, louder this time, and his arms tightened around her. That erection of his strained against the thin soft cotton of his boxers. In a bold move, she brought her knee up to his hip and positioned that erection right against her cleft. She could feel the heat of him through the cotton of her panties.
He groaned against her mouth and it was loud enough this time to shake the rubble around them. The big muscles in his chest and arms were jumping against her and she realized that he was holding himself back, keeping the full power of his body leashed.
Without warning, he broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, his hands on either side of her face.
“You’re killing me,” he growled.
She didn’t answer him. They were good at talking, but the time for words was over. She lived in a world of words, too many words. This was all about feeling something.
Instead, she leaned in and kissed him again, and he let her, his hands still cradling her face. His touch grew just a little harder, a little more urgent.
She ran her hands along the muscles of his chest, marveling at the solidness of him, the power in that big body. Jen had never been with anyone like Theron before and she was suddenly desperate to know what he’d feel like moving against her, inside of her.
He broke the kiss and his mouth found her throat. When his teeth scraped against the delicate skin beneath her ear, it was her turn to moan, her body arching against him.
He stilled, his breath tickling her wet skin and causing goosebumps all over her.
“Is this really happening?” he asked, his voice incredibly soft.
She nodded vigorously and leaned into him, suddenly desperate to taste the skin of his throat. A wild surge of energy moved through her, a desperation and a hunger she’d never felt with a partner. His hands on her shoulders stopped her.
His eyes were locked on hers.
“I need to hear you say it,” he said, his voice a husky rumble. “I need to hear you say you want this.”
Her heart squeezed at the look in his eyes. How did this man, who held so much destructive energy within him, exude sweet concern at every turn? It had been so long since anyone had put her first, and when he did it, it unwound every defense she had.
Breathing hard, heart pounding, she looked into his eyes and said, “I need your cock inside me like I need my next breath.”
***
The air in Theron’s lungs froze as Jen’s words hit him.
She wanted him.
That knowledge was like gasoline to his inner fire. Heat flushed his body and danced along his veins. In a swift movement, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it. He stripped the button down shirt from her shoulders with the same efficiency.
She wanted him.
The thought pounded through him again and he had to clench his hands into fists to keep them from ripping her T-shirt to shreds. Her slender hands caressed his bare chest and her touch cranked his inner fire up another notch. If he wasn’t careful, he’d scorch them both.
She rolled her hips against his erection, and he wasn’t able to hold back the groan that escaped his lips.
“Keep that up, sweetheart, and the party’s going to be over before it gets started,” he said against her throat.
She laughed, and it was deep and husky and throaty and quite possibly the best sound he’d ever heard.
As her laughter died, she seemed to sober for a moment. Pulling back a little, she met his eyes.
“I don’t suppose you have any condoms handy?” she whispered.
“I don’t, but I can’t get you pregnant and we can’t get each other sick.”
“How is that possible?” She arched an incredulous eyebrow as she stroked his shoulder.
“Different subspecies, remember?”
“Good to know,” she said, a devious looking smile spreading across her lips.
As he ran his hands slowly up her waist, pushing the T-shirt toward her shoulders, it hit him. It had never been like this before. Sex with anonymous sapien women had been nice, and he’d certainly enjoyed it, and the women had too, but it had been more a means to an end. Sex had always been a series of steps to get to a destination, which was at least a couple orgasms for the woman and one for him.
This pounding, demanding need coursing through him was new. It turned every touch, every kiss into something full of more sensation than he’d ever felt.
It’s because you care about her, an accusatory voice echoed in his head. The realization was like a sledgehammer to the chest and it snapped his eyes open wide.
Any coherent thoughts he had fled his skull at that point. Jen’s shirt was pushed up over her chest. She had on an adorable white cotton bra that gently cupped her small, tight breasts. Her small, dusky nipples were straining at the cotton.
He couldn’t help it, his fingers trailed over the swells above the thin cotton, and his mouth sucked her nipple through the fabric. She arched against him, her moan of pleasure echoing in his ears, and he smiled while he tongued her sensitive flesh.
Snapping the front clasp of her bra open, he freed her breasts and blew across her damp nipple, smiling again as she shivered hard in his arms.
He moved his hand slowly down her stomach, watching her face. Her eyes were closed, lips parted, breath panting. It was important to him that she wanted everythin
g he was doing. Sure she’d initiated, but there was a tiny portion of his brain that was still getting blood flow, and it was aware of the odd situation they were in.
He never wanted her to feel pressured to do something. He was her protector, and he’d defend her to the death, but that had nothing to do with what they were doing. He would protect her even if she were biting and clawing him the whole way to Damascus.
Right now, they only biting she was doing was nibbling his earlobe, and the only clawing she was doing was raking her nails down his bare back, causing a delicious frisson of pain that helped him focus again.
His hand reached her panties and dipped under the elastic. She was wet, his fingers slipping over her slick, hot pussy. She was so ready for him.
When his fingers found her clit and he started to circle her sensitive flesh, she arched against him and moaned. Her fingers dove into his hair and her nails raked his scalp. He let out a moan of his own.
Her hips began a subtle rhythm as he worked her, and he could feel the tension coiling within her. It wasn’t long before she came apart in his arms, coming hard against his hand.
She was panting hard, her cheeks flushed red in the firelight, her dark eyes sparking as they met his, her braid coming undone around her face. Not unlike the woman herself. In this moment, Jen was raw and undone and quite possibly the most beautiful thing Theron had ever seen.
He brought his mouth to hers again, kissing down her throat as she came down. As he began to move his fingers again, she pushed at his shoulders.
“No, please, I need you,” she said, her voice breathy and a little desperate. He chuckled softly.
“Yes, princess,” he said against her throat.
She was reaching for him, pulling his boxers down, and her panties disappeared. He had only a moment to enjoy the feel of her hand wrapped around him before his body took over. He mounted her, the desperation to be inside her taking control of him.
He knew he should hold back, take it slow, but after a lifetime of rigid control, he just didn’t have anything left. Not when it came to Jen. He knew he should stay sharp, that their enemies could find them at any moment.