It took a special kind of person to rise above abuse, and Neo had become a bully’s nightmare. Anytime he saw injustice, he would step in regardless of the odds. Neo had closed up and had tried to check out of their relationship when his father and brother died. He hadn’t quite pulled it off.
She had hope after last night. She would hold onto that.
He finally stirred as dawn lightened the sky. The patter of rain on the cave’s broken opening and in the surrounding vegetation permeated the dusky stillness. They were in for a miserable day and night.
He shifted beside her, his beard scraping against her as he turned his head, his breath warm against her neck as he muttered her name. She knew he wasn’t fully awake, and the sound of her name did unbearable things to her heart. With infinite care, she smoothed back his hair and cradled his head against her, flooded with such tenderness that it made her chest hurt. Damn, but she had missed him, part of her so empty without him.
With drowsy languor, he smoothed his hand along her rib cage. Releasing a contented sigh, he slid his arms around her and gathered her closer. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me,” he said, his voice gruff with sleep.
Easing a breath past the aching fullness in her chest, she gave him a little hug. “We’re in the middle of nowhere, hunted by psychopaths who will kill us on sight, barely have enough food to sustain us, in a foreign country, heading to a hostile city, and it’s raining outside. That’s a strange idea of a dream,” she whispered unevenly.
He chuckled. “Okay, that’s a pessimistic point of view, flower girl.”
Everything stilled in her. He hadn’t called her by that nickname since he was fourteen. The sound of it set off a swell of emotion inside her that she had to clench her jaw against. Cupping the side of his face, she tipped her head and pressed a kiss against his forehead. 2-Stroke shifted and found her mouth, taking it in a slow, lazy kiss that sent her pulse skittering. Releasing his breath in an unsteady sigh, he tightened his hold on her face and drew away. “I want you, babe,” he murmured.
Chry opened her eyes and looked at him, far closer to tears than she wanted to be. She held his steady gaze and tried to smile. “We might never get another chance,” she whispered.
She almost pulled it off, but something happened, and a sob escaped. She gripped his back and hid her face against his neck, fighting for composure.
Cradling her head against him, 2-Stroke used his other arm to pull her beneath him, his weight braced on his forearms as he hugged her against him. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee and settled his legs between hers, securing her against him. He tightened his hold and brushed a kiss against her neck. “I need you, Chry.”
Of all the things he could have said, that was the one thing she needed most to hear, and she hugged him hard, struggling against tears.
He buried his face in her neck, and Chry felt his chest expand. Abruptly, everything changed. She felt him against her, hard and fully aroused, and her breath caught on the sudden wild flutter in her chest. Closing her eyes against the explosion of need, she hung on to him, a heady weakness pulsing through her. On a soft sound of entreaty, she drew up her knees, and 2-Stroke tried to pull away.
“No, babe. No,” he whispered raggedly. “We don’t have protection and once I get inside you, it will be over.”
Shaken to the core by the agony of need in his voice, her body primed for the feel of him, she clutched at him, rubbing her pelvis against his. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I promise. It’s okay.”
2-Stroke roughly tightened his hold and made a low sound and her system overloaded with a rush of hot, surging desire. Her heart laboring, Chry stared at him.
Smiling slightly, he stroked her mouth with his thumb. “Are you sure?” His voice was softer now, huskier, more seductive.
Mesmerized by the look in his eyes, she somehow managed to swallow. “One hundred percent.”
He slid his fingers along her neck, rubbing his thumb against her frantically beating pulse point, his touch making her shiver. “I have thought about this for a long, long time,” he said.
That admission did unbearable things to her heart, and she closed her eyes against the sudden fullness in her chest.
2-Stroke shifted his hold, taking her face in his hands. “Look at me, babe,” he whispered. “I need you to look at me.”
She opened her eyes, drugged by sensation, paralyzed by his touch. He stared at her, his expression strained. Then he tipped her face up and slowly lowered his head, and Chry made a helpless sound and let her eyes drift shut again. Exerting pressure on her jaw, he opened her mouth, then covered it in a deep, searching kiss that drove every ounce of strength out of her body.
He worked his mouth hungrily against hers, and Chry couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All she could do was hang on and ride out the thousand sensations exploding in her. 2-Stroke caught her by the hips and molded her flush against him, his mouth wide and hot as he ran his hand under her thermal top and up her back. He emitted a low sound of approval when he encountered nothing but bare skin, and he slid his hand up her torso, cupping her breast, stroking her with his thumb.
His touch drove the breath right out of her, and she made another helpless sound against his mouth. He tightened his arm around her back and dragged his mouth away, his breathing labored.
“Damn, flower girl, you feel so fucking good,” his voice hoarse, dragging his fingers against her hardened nipple. Her whole body trembling, Chry turned her face tighter against the soft skin of his neck, hanging on to him with a frantic strength.
Pulling his hand free of her top, he slid it under her hair to cup the back of her neck. “We don’t have much room to move in here,” he whispered unevenly, his touch meant to comfort as he stroked her skin. “But I am always up for a challenge.”
“Is this a competition?”
“Um…” he said, crushing her against him when she cupped the heavy heat between his legs. “I think it’s a win/win, babe.”
He slid both hands up her rib cage and under her top, then eased away from her. “Lift your arms.”
Chry eagerly did as he instructed, her breath jamming in her chest as he stripped the garment from her. He yanked his shirt free, and she weakly rested her head against his jaw, her whole body starting to unravel.
The instant he was free of his shirt, he roughly whispered her name and pressed his body down on hers, and Chry lost any ties to reality when he rubbed his chest against her naked breasts. Catching a handful of hair, he twisted her head back, covering her mouth with a kiss that made her crazy. Adjusting the fit of his mouth against her, he absorbed the sound, running his hands up her rib cage, rolling her hardened nipples with his thumbs.
She couldn’t stand it. Fighting for every breath against the frenzy inside her, she drank in the heat of his mouth, drawing his tongue deeper and deeper, and he rolled her nipples again as a fever of need seized her. Sobbing against his mouth, she reached down to push off the thermal underwear, then ran her fingertips up his thick, hard ridge and molded her hand around his shaft.
2-Stroke grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand away, making a hoarse sound deep in his throat. He tempered the kiss as he eased away from her and pushed the material off him. His breathing harsh and labored, he rested his forehead against her, as if collecting some control, then pulled at her thermal pants. His hands splayed wide on her hips, he slowly, slowly shoved them down, his lips grazing her collarbone, the tip of one breast, her midriff.