They only had each other in this moment. “I will always be there for you, Neo. Always.”
He clasped both her hands and held them against his chest, his fingers and palms so warm against hers.
Feeling more than vulnerable, she didn’t want to let him go. But they had to eat and get some rest. She reluctantly pulled away. He turned and took the cloth from her, and she saw the bruises on his torso were just as bad. She couldn’t keep the pain from affecting her expression. The solemn look in his eyes altered, changing to a heart-stopping one that made Chry’s heart roll over.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded and grabbed up the other rag and stripped to the waist with her back to him. She washed herself from head to toe, cleaning up the sweat and grime.
Dressed, she turned back to the fire and saw that 2-Stroke had pulled out the sandwiches and a couple of power bars, the water in the kettle on the fire for tea.
When they finished eating, he banked the fire and they lay down together on the blanket, every part of her aware of him in so many different ways. Yes, as a man who had fought so hard to resist Darko and Zasha. Definitely sexual, thinking about being with him, having him inside her, touching and kissing her with that sexy mouth of his. As the friend and confidant from ten years ago, and as a hero who never gave up the core of himself.
They had a tough time ahead of them, but in this moment, they were together, free, and whole. That would be enough for now.
Closing her eyes, she dropped into sleep, and it seemed like moments later, she was unable to breathe. When she opened her eyes, she was underwater, the surface so far above her, she wasn’t going to make it before her air gave out.
Then she saw him, sleek, dressed in black, his mask over his face, swimming strongly toward her. All she had to do was touch him and he would save her. She reached up, her hand stretching. But then something grabbed her ankle, a cold, clammy hand in a grip so tight, she couldn’t move. She looked down, trying to shake off whatever was stopping her from reaching 2-Stroke.
In the murk, a clawed hand was around her ankle. As she looked harder, the gloom cleared and revealed Zasha’s shrunken visage, her hair, white and thick, billowing out from her scalp, her eyes a ghostly white. With a smile she pulled Chry down.
She came awake with a terrible gasp, 2-Stroke’s arm around her shoulders. She struggled for air and he wrapped his arms around her from behind. “Breathe, babe. Match my breathing,” he said. In her blind panic, the soothing sound of his voice calmed her, and she matched his cadence, her breath undulating in and out roughly.
“It was just a nightmare, Chry,” he whispered, exhaling sharply and turning her into his arms. Closing her eyes against a nearly unbearable surge of feeling for him, she collapsed against him and he cradled her head and pressed his mouth to the top of her head.
2-Stroke shifted and draped his leg across hers, then pulled her flush against him. Chry swallowed hard when he drew the blanket over them.
It was all she needed to let go, and she released another sigh as she turned her face against him, his beard rough against her skin, and the trembling slowly abated.
“Tell me. Do you still have that gorgeous Harley?”
“Star? The low rider?” His voice rumbled in his chest.
“Yes, the one with the olive-green paint and those cool exhaust pipes.”
“Yeah, those straight pipes are awesome. I still have it and ride it often. At least when I’m home.”
“I’ve always wanted a ride.” There was nothing sexier than 2-Stroke on that Harley, leather chaps over his jeans, leather jacket molded to his upper body, and a pair of biker boots with all those shiny buckles.
His voice dropped to a hush. “On the bike?”
She laughed. “Don’t tease me.”
“Trying to distract you from that damn nightmare. Bad, huh?”
She stirred, lifting up to look him in the eyes, her hand twisting in his shirt. “Terrible. Zasha…she used water torture.” She explained the dream, and 2-Stroke closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Chry knew that he was remembering his own torture at her hands. They were silent for a while.
“I could kill that woman with my bare hands and not lose a minute of sleep over it,” he growled. “She is pure evil.”
“I get that,” she said, her voice hoarse, “but I don’t want to talk about her.”
He whispered her name as he drew her tighter, his arms like vises around her as he pressed his face into the curve of her neck. “That low rider is a great bike. I’ll give you a ride on her sometime if you want.”
Chry closed her eyes, her body trembling from the explosion of emotion that slammed through her, unconscious of everything except him. “You said it wasn’t a good idea for us to get involved.”
“One ride won’t hurt,” he murmured.
“Okay.” She bit her lip and smiled. His hold on her eventually slackened. Sighing softly, he combed his fingers through her hair, his touch gentle and oddly soothing. Her heart raced wildly as she savored the rousing feelings that coursed through her. It was like no other sensation she’d ever experienced, lying clasped in his arms this way. And if she’d had any doubts about her feelings for him, then and now, they were swept away by the feel of him. “You still have those riding chaps, the black leather ones with the studs and those boots with all the buckles?”
“I do.” Cupping his hand against the back of her head, 2-Stroke nestled her more closely against him, his breath warm against her skin as his lips lightly brushed her temple.
“Oh, my.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You seriously have no idea how sexy you are?”
He laughed softly, his amusement fading on a sigh of capitulation. “About as much awareness that you do.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
His expression softened as he slowly rubbed his knuckles along her jaw. “You’re stunning, Chry.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she hugged him. After a moment, she said, “Right back at you, Neo.”
He stared at her a minute, his eyes suddenly dark and intent, then he exhaled sharply. A tremor coursed through him, and he pressed her even more fiercely against him. His movements unleashed a storm in Chry that robbed her of all rational thought, and she lay against him, unable to think, immobilized by an excitement that overrode all else. She tried to twist her head, desperately wanting the hungry contact of his mouth, but 2-Stroke caught her head, holding her motionless against him.
His breath was driven from him on a nearly inaudible groan, and his voice was hoarse and touched with desperation as he ground out, “Just let me hold you. We are strong together.”
Touched by the agony in his voice, Chry fought to stay afloat in all the raw emotion, her chest banded by an overwhelming ache. She responded by tightening her hold on him, her body beginning to tremble from the upheaval he had aroused in her. 2-Stroke’s mouth was warm on her forehead as he nestled her head against his shoulder.
The darkness of the cave enveloped them in a safe cocoon, and Chry closed her eyes, taking comfort from the sensuous and physical intimacy. For now, this was enough, knowing that he desperately wanted her, knowing that he couldn’t let her go. And she also knew that for her, there would be no turning back, that she had passed her point of no return, that Neo Teller had claimed a part of her that she could never take back. And off across the ridge of mountains, like some ominous forewarning, she could once again hear the sound of distant thunder.