Hey, guess what? I have a thing for you.
Laughter rumbled inside his chest. That kind of line would earn an eye roll or slap. Maybe both, deservedly so.
We fight well. We work well. Maybe we should see what else we do well—
Nope. That wouldn’t end to his advantage either, and didn’t exactly nail the sentiment that he wanted to convey. The problem was, he didn’t know what that sentiment was other than that suddenly, because of her, everything in the whole damn world had changed.
They arrived at Penn Station. He let go of her hand to buy their tickets, and when he returned she stayed close, leaning into him as if they were supposed to stay connected.
He turned her to face him. Their bodies remained together. Her hand rested on his side, above his waist, palm barely grazing his shirt as though touching the fabric would be too bold.
Penn Station on a Saturday night wasn’t the humming, busy place he knew it could be. But they weren’t alone, and Spiker still had no idea what he wanted to say. She remained close, her chin tucked as though she were lost in thought. He looked down and watched her, knowing that Vanka had more than him to figure out. This was how she’d question and test and search for what could be. Nothing about her touch was meant to tease. That didn’t matter. He could hardly breathe.
Her barely-there caress kicked his pulse into high gear. The assessing way she leaned her weight against his made the blood rush in his shoulders and neck, in his chest, and if he weren’t careful, everywhere else as well.
The speakers called out the next train arrivals. A bullpen’s worth of people shifted toward the escalators. When their departure was called, Vanka and Spiker reluctantly parted, moving with the throng to the station’s lower level and following the directions to find their DC-bound train.
Harsh lights illuminated the platforms. Locomotive grime mixed into the hot, heavy air. They walked past the first train cars, which were slowly filling, until they reached the last ones, dimly lit and sparsely occupied.
They boarded and, as before, chose seats far from anyone else. Vanka slipped into the window seat and pulled up the armrest. Spiker sat down. As always, she pressed her back against his arm and gazed out the window.
Spiker closed his eyes and waited for their tickets to be scanned. The process was quick. Few people were bound for Washington, DC this late on a weekend.
The train rumbled out of the station. The platform lights faded away. Blackness overtook the train as they rolled through the tunnel.
Vanka shifted away from the window and leaned her cheek on his chest. The rail noise couldn’t hide the way his heart pounded, and for the millionth time that day, he couldn’t breathe.
Spiker placed his chin on the top of her head and whispered her name. Her hair smelled like shampoo. He closed his eyes as her hand rested against his stomach.
Her hand tensed against his stomach, fingers curling, nails digging into his flesh. Vanka knotted his shirt into the palm of her hand and tipped her chin up, giving him everything he needed: simple, unquestionable permission to kiss her.
“I’m having a very hard time”—his lips pressed against her silky hair—“controlling myself around you.”
Vanka whispered, “Welcome to the club.”
Spiker was asking for a leap of faith. Vanka had never questioned him before. There was nothing she wanted more than to feel his lips and taste passion. They’d kissed more times than she could recall, but this would be a real first, the only one that mattered. Just as long as she gave herself over to this paradigm-shifting trust fall.
They hadn’t discussed the risk of fallout. There was no backup plan, no way to resurrect what had been up until this point. “Everything will change.”
“I’m good with that,” he said.
That terrified her—and she didn’t give a damn.
Her body hummed, electric and alive, as though every molecule of her being threatened to explode into a hundred million specks of light. The pads of his fingers smoothed over her cheek like a velvet breath. Vanka trembled, her heart begging that he never stop.
“You’ve gotta give me the go.” The warmth of his lips caressed hers before their mouths touched. She had no choice but to shut her eyes. This was a maddening, dizzying moment before a fall, and she was completely drunk on him.
“Kiss me.”
Their lips touched. Instantaneous, primal need ignited an avalanche of lightning within her chest. They had been a smoldering storm, and the brush of their lips released its fury. His arms surrounded her, pressing her against him as though they could never be close enough. His tongue danced and delved, spinning her higher and higher, giving Vanka a wicked taste of what could be.
Her uncertainty about what should pass between them was now impossible for her to fathom. This man was everything. They were exactly where they needed to be.
He licked and nipped, promising an intensity she couldn’t comprehend. Spiker’s large hands grasped her hips and possessively lifted her onto his lap. She straddled him, rubbing against his long, thick erection, and he held her in place as if to demand, Do you see what you do to me?
The metal-on-metal squeal of brakes jerked, and the loudspeaker announced their arrival in Philadelphia.
The train slowed. She and Spiker slowed. Vanka stared into his steely eyes. Parking lot lights illuminated their passenger car. Their breaths still raced. Spiker didn’t release his grip on her waist. He held her gaze as their pulses returned to normal and the train stopped.
The whoosh of opening doors didn’t temper the fire in his eyes. He slid her to his side, and without a word, promised that their moment was not over.
Two people boarded the train. Vanka settled in her seat and leaned into him. The train lurched forward, swaying until it hit a steady roll.
An employee entered their car calling, “Tickets.” He stopped long enough to punch the cards for travelers, then passed by Vanka’s and Spiker’s row, barely pausing long enough to read their destination and continue on.
Vanka giggled. She couldn’t help it. If anyone gave them half a glance, they would look like teenagers busted in the backseat of a car. She stole a glance at Spiker. His smile was as dopey as hers felt. “Well, that was nice.”
Spiker laughed. “Yeah, nice. So long as nice means, oh my God, why are you still wearing clothes.”
Vanka laughed. This was easy and fun, and there was no hiding the smile he brought to her face. Worries of awkward, weird moments simply disappeared. Spiker put his arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. Vanka couldn’t wait for them to be home.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Vanka braked the Audi braked at the stop sign next to her house, and from the passenger seat, Spiker got a good look at a man who sat on the top step of her front porch, illuminated by the solar lights. “We have a visitor.”
“Oh, goodie. Just what I was hoping for.” Vanka turned in in front of her house. “We could pretend like we turned into the wrong driveway.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” The man from the porch walked toward their car, and while Spiker didn’t like to be approached while he was a sitting duck, he knew with one good look that the man was one of GSI’s couriers. “How long do you think he’s been waiting?”