Breaking Danger Page 22

  She obeyed. Robb and his Anna hadn’t made the bed before fleeing, so Sophie settled down on rumpled sheets. They were flowery and made a nest around her so she looked like a pearl on a bed of roses. Her skin glowed, pale and perfect, her dark hair tousled around her head. Long, slender, graceful limbs. Soft eyes looking at him, waiting for him.

  His limbs moved jerkily as he lay down next to her. He wanted inside her like he wanted his next breath, but she was just too beautiful. He wanted to feast on her for just a little while more.

  Stretched out at her side, Jon touched an eyebrow with the tip of his forefinger. Just the lightest touch. Everything about her sent him into sensory overload. Every inch of her body called out to be looked at, touched, kissed. He’d start slow, just like he promised.

  He followed the dark graceful eyebrows. His finger traced the perfect oval of her face, lingering on the dimple in her slightly pointed chin. Next, her lips, velvety soft. They opened at his touch and she breathed in deeply. She followed his eyes as he looked at her, finger tracing her jawline, then down, across the delicate collarbones. She was flushed, light rose over pearl.

  Jon’s eyes dropped as did his finger, down over the center line of her body, between her breasts. Up again, to lightly circle her nipples, now a deep rose color. When he stroked her breast, his thumb ran over the velvety skin of her nipple and she shivered.

  “You like that?” Jon whispered, unable to take his eyes from her breasts.

  “I like it all, Jon.” Her voice was low, too, though there was probably no one within a radius of fifty miles. No one human, anyway.

  He bent quickly, licked her nipple, keeping his hand on her belly. When he licked it again, her belly muscles contracted. He let out his breath in a long, slow release.

  He liked that he was engaging in a little foreplay, but this was more about him, really. Him trying to gain some control. These slow movements, step by step, were helping him.

  The tip of his forefinger ran along her side, where she narrowed to a ridiculously small waist then flared out again. She was as perfect a woman as he’d ever seen in his life. Then over her belly to the belly button, the cutest little innie ever. It made him smile just looking at it.

  His big, tanned, scarred hand looked like a blunt instrument on her velvety skin. It was the most erotic contrast possible.

  His eyes rose to hers now because he was going exploring in a place where he couldn’t see so he wanted to watch her face. The finger went down, down. She didn’t need for him to tell her to open her legs. They opened automatically, her heels making a swishing sound on the sheets. Jon kept watching her eyes, but he had excellent peripheral vision and she made this luscious picture on the rose-patterned sheets, skin flushed all over, cherry red nipples, the lips of her sex shiny and open.

  For him.

  He touched her there, as delicately as he could. Such tender, tender flesh and his hands were so callused. But there was no abrasion because she was so slick, so ready for him. His forefinger slid into her and she just closed around his finger like a little mouth. He pulled out a little, pressed in, and she gave a little sigh.

  Again, and again. Then her sex clamped around his finger in one convulsive pull that showed again in her belly muscles.

  If he were a gentleman, he’d let her climax around his fingers, then he’d go down on her and make her come again and then and only then he would mount her.

  But he wasn’t a gentleman. Not in any way. He slid his hand out from her and pulled her thighs even further apart, moved over her and slid into her, all in one smooth hard motion.

  They both stilled. He was fully on top of her, trying to keep some of the weight of his torso on his forearms. He tilted his head forward until his forehead met hers.

  “That feels so good.” Her voice was low, warm and rich.

  He nodded, his head against hers.

  “It would feel even better if you moved, though.” Her lips curved in one of those mysterious Mona Lisa smiles only beautiful women knew how to produce.

  He exhaled slowly. Pulled out. Pushed back in. It felt like heaven. He was finding it hard to pull out because it felt so good just being buried deep inside Sophie, where it was warm and tight and welcoming. But he tried it again. It was awful pulling back, fantastic sliding back in.

  Again.

  His movements weren’t smooth and steady as they usually were. They were jerky, rough. He was barely in control of himself, moving on instinct alone.

  Sophie lay her hand on his butt and directed his movements, guiding him until he was able to control himself enough to smooth out his thrusts. Oh yeah. It was better this way, much, much better. He’d lost himself for a moment there, but he came back into himself. Just enough.

  He took over, thrusting slowly, steadily, head bowed over hers. A drop of sweat fell from him onto her temple. He wanted to lift his hand and wipe it away but any movements at all besides what he was doing seemed impossible. She didn’t even seem to notice, thank God.

  Sophie arched suddenly, lifted her legs around his hips, drew in a shocked breath. Her sex contracted once, twice, and then suddenly she gave a sharp cry and started rocking against him, soft tissues pulling at his cock tightly, milking him . . .

  Control shattered. Jon’s hips hammered into her, hard, fast, rough. If she’d given any sign of distress it might have penetrated the heat in his head. Maybe. He hoped. As it was, Sophie was crying out but not with pain. She was clinging to him tightly with her arms and legs. He lowered his entire weight onto her so he could hold her hips while fucking her just as hard as he could. The bed rocked, swayed, the tall wood and leather headboard beat a hard tattoo against the wall.

  It was fast, violent, hot. Hot-hot-hot. Their bodies were plastered together with sweat. It came pouring out of him and his lungs were on fire.

  Sophie’s head was buried in his neck and she licked him, then bit him. That kicked him up another gear. He was pistoning wildly inside her, panting, sweating . . . it was too much. Just as Sophie gave another wild cry, he plunged deeply inside her and held himself there as every single drop of moisture in his body poured into her.

  He was digging his toes in the mattress to stay as deeply inside her as he could while he exploded in waves, shuddering and shaking.

  He’d never had an experience as intense as that. It was entirely possible that he blacked out for a second or two. When it was all over, he was sprawled on her with his entire weight, plastered to her with his sweat, their groins wet with his come.

  He was ashamed of himself. Sort of. The thing was it had all felt so goddamned good. He should assess the damage, right away. Find out how she was, see if he’d hurt her or even disgusted her because for a while there he’d definitely behaved like an animal in rut.

  But every muscle in his body was lax, not responding to orders from central command. All he could do was lie on her and pant, trying to get oxygen back into his lungs, blood back to his head.

  It took forever.

  But finally, finally, a little control came back. Not much. Just enough to raise his head to see if she was smiling or snarling. If she was mad at him for losing control. He’d have to explain to her as carefully as he could that that wasn’t the way he usually operated and that he’d try to be more gentle the next time, if there was a next time. Maybe she was disgusted with him. All that sweating and groaning and, well, he didn’t smell like springtime either.

  So he lifted his head, prepared for just about anything—happiness, anger, anything in between, and instead what he got was Sophie’s head turned to the side, eyes closed and what was that? He turned his ear to her mouth and grinned.

  Sophie Daniels, virologist, sexy, classy woman, was snoring. Light delicate little exhalations that barely qualified, totally unlike the rhinoceros snorts of his teammates in the field, but definitely snores. Delighted with her, delighted with what was happening to him, he slowly turned with her in his arms, so gently he managed to stay inside her, and adjusted her on t
op of him. Sophie made a wonderful blanket. Soft and light.

  He took in one deep happy breath and let it out, and fell asleep.

  Chapter 11

  Sophie was dreaming. She and Jon were dancing on a rickety wooden pier far out over the ocean. The wind was still, the water calm, bright sun picking out diamond-like reflections in the water. Each step they took made the pier rock and sway, made the wood creak. Jon was kissing her cheek, over and over, a tender look on his face . . .

  “Sophie, wake up. It’s nearly sundown. Time to go.”

  Not kissing, tapping at her cheek.

  She woke in a swoop, disoriented. She wasn’t on a pier out over the ocean. She was in a bed and the room was filled with shadows. Outside the windows, the sky was the dark pink of sunset.

  She sat up, still groggy, and pushed her hair out of her eyes. Sitting up, she felt the muscles between her thighs, the tissues of her sex, complain. She was sore and she blushed a bright red when she remembered just how those muscles and tissues had become sore.

  Jon was standing several feet away from the bed, face grim and tight. He looked like he’d been up for hours and he looked like a completely different man from the one who’d been in bed with her.

  “We’ll go just as soon as it becomes dark enough to use night vision.” His voice was tight, clipped, impersonal. Team leader to teammate. “I made you sandwiches. Eat as much as you can; you’re going to need fuel. I don’t want to stop unless we absolutely have to—it’s going to be a trek. There’s time for you to take a shower if you want. I’ve already taken mine. But I’d like to leave in half an hour.”

  Sophie watched his face more than listened to his words. He’d carefully erased any emotion from his face and looked and sounded like a robot. An incredibly good-looking robot whose manufacturer had given it ripped muscles.

  “Okay.” She carefully matched her tone to his. Impersonal, matter of fact. “I’ll be ready in half an hour.”

  He nodded and marched rather than walked out of the room. Mission-ready.

  Sophie showered, rummaged in Mrs. Robb’s amazingly well-stocked closets, and came up with a silk undershirt, a thick cashmere turtle-necked sweater, jeans. Her own Nomex coat and winter boots completed the outfit—Apocalypse Chic. In the kitchen she found the food Jon had set up: two ham-and-cheese sandwiches and fruit juice. The Robbs believed in living right—the bread was whole wheat, the cooked ham and Swiss cheese delicious. Jon had even peeled two apples for her and quartered them.

  Jon showed up exactly half an hour after he’d woken her up. He was dressed for battle, exactly as he was when he showed up at her door, the Nordic god who seemingly fell from the sky on top of her. She remembered clearly the huge emotions of the moment—terror and hope in equal measure.

  And then, they’d made love. As if those emotions had cut right through the usual getting-to-know-you phase. Strong enough to blast right through all the walls people put up.

  She’d known who he was at that instant—a man who’d walked through hell to find her. Not much else was necessary to know. It had been enough, more than enough, to get past her defenses.

  It was sunset now; the sky outside the windows a darkening blue.

  “I’ve checked the vehicle,” Jon said. “She’s good to go, fully charged and with a full tank of LPG. With luck, she’ll last till we get to Haven. I loaded her up with food. The Robbs have a full stock of staples and I stacked as much inside as the vehicle can carry. I know Haven has ample stores, but I checked with HQ and refugees are pouring in. The food will come in handy.”

  “Did you track our route?”

  Jon pulled a face. “Sort of.”

  He showed her an expanded map with GPS waypoints. “The satellites took photographs of the roads from here to Haven.” He traced a path with his finger from where they were on the coast eastward to Mount Blue, a desolate part of the state. She’d never been there. “The Lynx has off-the-road capabilities and she’s strong, but going off road will also mean increased fuel consumption. We’ve got a map of where we can travel on highways and roads and where they are blocked by vehicles. The thing is, the photographs were taken the day before yesterday and the satellites are down now. Our drones are being used to scan for pockets of survivors, and they don’t know when they can assign some to us. So, we’re operating essentially on old intel in a hostile environment.”

  He looked at her narrow-eyed, as if expecting something from her. She showed him her determined face. She was not going to slow him down in any way; she was going to do everything in her power to help.

  “The scanner works, right?” she asked. “We’ll know where the infected are.”

  “Oh yeah, it works all right. And as long as we keep moving, we won’t have anything to fear from the infected. They sure can’t outrun us. We just have to make sure we don’t run into trouble off road.”

  Sophie looked out the window at the rising darkness. “I’m ready when you are, Jon.”

  “Okay,” he answered, but he didn’t move. He kept his face neutral but there was something, some strong emotion, quivering just beneath the surface. He looked tense, like the string of a bow before release. He looked like he needed something badly, but Sophie had no clue what that might be.

  “Jon?”

  He suddenly lunged and wrapped his arms around her. His grip was so tight she could barely breathe, and beneath his clothes Jon was trembling, his breath quick and rough.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said, voice low, husky, strained. As if it was hard for him to get the words out. “That’s my promise to you. I’ll get you to Haven safely.” He swallowed hard. She could feel it and hear it. “Trust me. Trust me to get you to safety.”

  Though his words were reassuring, somehow Sophie felt that he needed reassurance, as if he would fall apart if she weren’t holding on to him.

  “I trust you, Jon,” she said softly.

  He jolted, then settled down onto her so heavily, she was bearing his weight. Just for a moment. Then he straightened, stepped back, holding her by the shoulders. “Good. We’re going to do this. You’ll get to Haven, you have my word.”

  He dropped his hands and took another step backward, all elite soldier now. He all but saluted, face completely neutral, expressionless.

  The robot was back.

  Except he didn’t fool her. Jon was no robot. That tight hold he had on his emotions was because he felt them too keenly.

  He wanted her to trust him? God, yes. At that moment Sophie knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he would sacrifice his life for her if it could get her to safety. This went beyond getting the case back to the labs. This was about her, Sophie Daniels. But she couldn’t let on that she understood that, not now, not when he had to show her he was all supersoldier, utterly emotionless.

  Her only possible response was to stay neutral herself. “Okay.” She dipped her head. “So I guess we’re heading on out.”

  The Lynx was a surprising vehicle. She’d never seen one in real life, only in ads. Nobody needed a private vehicle in San Francisco. She just rented a CityCar from the city when she needed transportation, so she wasn’t up on the latest models. This thing looked like a beast, like something she’d laugh at if she encountered it on city streets. Huge, high and broad, a complete waste of material. Except right now they were going to trust their lives to this beast, and it looked like it was up for it. Its size and toughness were welcome if they were going to have to go off road.

  “Bless you, Jason Robb,” she said as she ran her hand along the beast’s flank.

  Jon looked up briefly from fitting her backpack into the rear compartment. “Yeah, we’re really lucky. I don’t think a normal vehicle could make this trip. We have something back at Haven that would be even better than this, but it’s there and we’re here.”

  Sophie looked the Beast over, realizing it was something she couldn’t drive, not even on freeways, let alone in the wild. “Can I help you in any way, Jon?
Can I navigate for you?”

  Jon had come around to the passenger side and opened the door. The floor of the vehicle was higher than her breasts. The small step that appeared from the flank of the vehicle was absolutely necessary. Jon gave her a quick boost and she settled into the seat. Inside, it was enormous, like a small room. Jon had packed the back tightly, covering the windows to midpoint. But the car would have sensors and video cameras for rear view vision.

  “No. We’re going to have to travel with the lights off because the light would attract the infected. I have night vision goggles and the waypoints are on the GPS. But we’re going to have to be ready to change the itinerary at any moment.”

  Jon’s comms unit crackled and she saw movement. He pressed a button and the hologram was projected. His teammates, Mac, and Nick. And Elle.

  “We’re ready to roll out,” Jon said. “Anything we need to know?”

  Mac looked tired and drawn. “The infection has spread to the rest of the country. There are now severe outbreaks in Houston, Dallas, Seattle, Denver, Chicago, and Boston. Plus a number of smaller cities. Martial law has been declared in half the country. We know this because our comms system is picking up sporadic signals, but we are completely unable to establish any kind of radio contact with anyone in the military. There is no priority higher than getting that case to a safe place; there is nothing more important that the U.S. military could achieve, and we can’t communicate with them, not in any way. Snyder tried, and he connected with a lieutenant somewhere for half a minute, then they were cut off.” His jaw flexed. “But we’re trying 24/7 to get through. The instant we do, we’ll get a bird to you, no matter where you are. But you’re not getting help any time soon, Jon. Neither are we. We’re on our own. The good news is that we still have people pouring in and we’ve located more strongholds. People are dug in and most of those communities are going to make it. The countryside is littered with the bodies of the infected. They are dying fast.”

  Sophie snapped to attention. “Do you have any hazmat suits, sir?”