Page 69 of Her Reluctant Hero
“Cell phone doesn’t work out here,” he said without looking up. “I’m surprised that thing does. I cleaned the bathroom too. You can take a bath if you want.”
She pushed her hair out of her face and scanned the trailer, which didn’t improve in daylight. It did smell better, though, the combination of cleaning solution and coffee making it almost homey. “How long have you been up?”How long are we staying here, she wanted to ask.
“Couple of hours.”
“What time is it?”
He pushed to his feet to rinse off the rag in the sink. “Just after noon.”
She jolted. “So late?”
“We got in about three, so, yeah. Don’t worry. You needed the sleep.”
Still, she’d lost all that time, time they could have been looking for her son. She bit back the words. There was nothing to be done about it, and to harp on it would seem petty.
“You made coffee,” she said instead, reaching across the trailer for the small pot.
“Mug there is clean. There are Nutri-Grain bars in one of those bags there. If you want, I can heat up some chili or something.”
“No, it’s okay.” She lifted the steaming mug to her mouth and wondering where Domestic Alex had come from. The coffee smelled wonderful, and she wasn’t ordinarily a coffee drinker.
For a moment the trailer was silent except for the softly accented female voice on the radio, one of the astronauts from the shuttle flight.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked.
He sat back on his heels. “You shower, we drive somewhere to get a signal, call my team, let them know we’re okay, see what they’ve found out.”
“Okay. We have a plan.” She set the mug on the table behind her, feeling much lighter.
When he pushed himself to a standing position, suddenly the trailer seemed a lot smaller. Something like fondness shone in his eyes. He stroked her hair back, trailing his fingers along her jaw. Her nerves jumped in response.
“Those pajamas make me crazy,” he murmured and covered her mouth with his.
She bowed into him, cupping the back of his head, savoring his familiar taste, memories of last night flooding her, arousing her.
“You smell like bleach.”
“Sorry.” He snatched his hands back.
She grabbed them, brought them to her face and sniffed them. “I don’t mind.”
He kissed her again, his mouth demanding. He lifted her, carrying her down the hall. She wrapped her legs around him and clung even as he bounced her off a corner, a wall, and finally onto the bed, following her down. He rose up just enough to unbutton her top, his breathing hot and fast, and he flashed a grin at her.
Alex. Grinned. At her.
Her heart tumbled all over itself.
He kissed the hollow of her throat, eased his way down, worshipfully, as if each kiss gave him the same pleasure it gave her.
Alex could smell himself on her skin as he kissed her collarbone, the swell of her breast, before he dragged his tongue around her nipple ad continued down her flat belly. He nipped her navel before ascending again, capturing her other nipple between his lips, tugging till she gasped in pleasure.
Sliding his fingers down the front of her pants, he found her hot and slick. His own desire had been barely banked since she’d turned to him in the dark last night. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he woke, the way she’d reached for him, the way they’d come together so easily, moved together so easily, found pleasure.
It wasn’t supposed to be like that, especially not with her. That it had been, well, he wanted to feel it again. And again. When she’d walked out this morning in those damn pajamas—
She slid her palm down his belly and into his shorts, circling him, as eager as he was, and he was naked, then sheathed, then inside her and she was moving into him, her body straining, glistening, glowing in the midday light.
He dropped over her, pushed her hair back and kissed her deeply while she wound her arms around his neck, slick with sweat, with effort, with his impending orgasm.
