Page 27 of Princess

“Uh-huh.”

I make a face at his dry tone and don’t reply.

* * *

It takes about fifty minutes to get to the drop spot, which is in the ruins of an old gas station quick shop. I help Grant lift a toppled beverage cooler so he can slide his note underneath it, and then our mission is accomplished.

“Well, that was easy enough.” I wipe away a light layer of perspiration from my forehead with the back of my hand. It’s warmer out today.

“I told you it was a one-person job.”

“Maybe I just wanted to go. You think I enjoy being trapped in one place for the rest of my life?”

“No. I’m sure you don’t enjoy it.” His tone and his expression are quiet. “But it’s safer that way.”

“We have to balance safety with quality of life. I’d be safer if I never left my apartment in the bunker, but you think that would be any way to live?”

“No one is expecting that.”

“I’m just saying. There has to be a balance. And maybe it’s not all that safe for you to up and leave whenever you want without any backup or protection.”

“I always take this Jeep. It’s armored. Bulletproof. I wouldn’t go by myself otherwise.”

I scowl at him, mostly because it’s annoying that he always has reasonable responses to my legitimate reproaches.

He almost, almost smiles.

“Asshole,” I mutter.

“What’s gotten into you today?” He doesn’t look angry or annoyed. His face is questioning and faintly amused. It’s a softer feeling than I normally see in him, and I can’t help but like it.

We’ve been walking back toward the Jeep, and now he leans over to grab two bottles of water out of the back. He tosses one to me, and I catch it gratefully.

After I take a big swallow, I reply to his question. “What do you mean, what’s gotten into me?”

“I don’t know. You just seem…” He shrugs. “You’re not normally so aggressive.”

“Aggressive?”I’m not sure why I take it as an insult, but it feels like one.

“Feisty?”

“That’s even worse! Kittens are feisty. Not me. Anyway, I’m not really acting different. This is the normal me. Maybe I’m just starting to lose patience.”

He’s leaning against the Jeep, periodically drinking from his water bottle. He’s even sweatier than I am. There are a couple of perspiration stains on his gray T-shirt. His worn jeans are riding low on his hips, and his blue eyes are glinting withsomething. Something that feels to me a lot like a challenge. “You’re losing your patience with what?”

And that’s what does it. That question. That look.

“With you.” I stride across the distance between us, reach up to drag his head down, and kiss him hard.

He stays still for a few moments—clearly taken by surprise—but it doesn’t take long before he’s responding. He tenses up, wraps one arm around me, and curves the other hand around the back of my head to hold me in place. He deepens the kiss almost fiercely, and it leaves me breathless and buzzing with feeling.

Then suddenly he releases me, drawing back a step and staring at me. He’s panting just as loudly as I am.

Neither of us says anything for a moment.

“You really want this?” he asks at last, soft and rough. His body is so taut I can see muscles rippling faintly in his jaw and in his arms.

Instead of answering with words, I pull my little white shirt off over my head. I’ve got a well-worn bra on underneath it, but it does little to hide the shape of my breasts and the pale expanse of my skin.

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